The Beach House
by elleisforlovee
Summary: Growing up, Martha's beach house was always a safe haven for Tom and Sybil. Now married and with children of their own, the house is theirs, as are the stresses of the real world. Can some time in Cape Cod relax the couple and remind them of what's important? *Set in the Beautiful Collisions universe*
1. Need A Little Sunshine

***PLEASE NOTE that this story is a sequel to _Beautiful Collisions_. This does not stand alone. These characters are who they are because of everything that once happened to them. Please do not discredit that.

**A/N****: **First off, Happy Memorial Day to my American readers! I know what some of you may be thinking: Another _Beautiful Collisions_ story? To be honest, I should be better about letting this story _just be_ because I do think it is more than strong enough to stand on its own but, that being said, who doesn't love a summer fic? And I really could write in this universe until the day I die and be completely happy with it. So, without further adieu, the Branson-Crawley family has a trip to make…

Oh, and it's worth noting that this will be unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Cause in my life and times  
She is paradise, I know you and I  
Gotta little bit of faith in the hard times,  
Gotta little bit of shade in the moonlight,  
Gotta little bit of right at the wrong time,  
Got you and I'm feeling alright  
Babe I just need a little sunshine…"  
_Need A Little Sunshine_ - Augustana

* * *

A full month had passed since Martha's funeral. It was a small affair, and one the family was more than prepared for since the Levinson matriarch was diagnosed with Stage III Breast Cancer a year ago. Sybil and Tom constantly commented on how remarkable it was that she managed to witness yet another round of birthdays, holidays, and even their own wedding, the latter event being the most important and to more than just the newlyweds. Unlike the other deaths the two had experienced in their lives, Martha's seemed to be the most natural. It was as if she had done everything she ever needed to do, truly living life to the fullest all before quietly making a perfectly timed exit.

In her absence, summer swept in, overtaking the days of mourning with lightly hazed skies and the occasional sunlit afternoon. Last year around this time, Sybil and Tom's tradition of leaving London for Cape Cod was forfeited. Max and Madeline understood, of course, but even with Martha undergoing chemotherapy treatments the family craved the feeling of sand beneath their toes, understanding that despite life's unfortunate dealings, there were few things salt water could not remedy.

Currently, just Sybil, Tom, and Madeline stood waiting in line at the cafe near their terminal; Max and his girlfriend Jennie would be joining them shortly. As usual, the entire family would fly from London to Boston before taking a rental car from Logan Airport up the curved coast to their summer home. The trip was a bit different with children, but every year Sybil and Tom were just as surprised to find that the small peninsula had not yet been claimed by the sea.

The trip, that of which would span two full weeks, was well deserved. Sybil had just spent the last six months integrating a Russian ballerina into her already mixed corps only to find the company wished to make her a principal. Apparently, they did not feel this was information Sybil would benefit from, and it worked to shock the other dancers too, girls who had worked hard and patiently waited their turn for the very same spot — one next to Colin Burke, the American playboy who had won the hearts of every patron and ballet fan since he was made lead a year ago. Naturally, Sybil went to work each day with her head held high. She did not take their decision to refrain from sharing their intentions as one that was meant to slight her and instead worked tirelessly to ensure that the girls she had watched grow and mature for the past seven years felt secure in their positions within the company. It was only when Sybil came home and had to perform similar balancing acts with her family that she showed weakness. Many nights Tom found her awake with stress so heavy on her shoulders he was kept from sleep as well as he held her and smoothed back her hair while her wet eyes stained his naked chest.

It did not aid the situation any that Tom was also struggling at work, coming off a big case that involved the investigation and comparison of foreign penitentiary systems to those existing in the UK, Ireland, and the US. The hypothesis of his article was proven true when all of his findings revealed that the proper treatment of prisoners was not always determined by a country's GDP. After publication, Tom's phone, and their shared home telephone had not stopped ringing. The situation, which sparked controversy with the media and amongst several key government officials, came to a particularly nasty head when Tom was picking Madeline up from ballet one day, and the little girl pushed an inquiring reporter she felt was bullying her father. After seeing how visibly shaken his daughter was, Tom took a break, one that Sybil only enforced when she too admitted defeat as a direct result of their shared overall exhaustion. Together they decided early summer, when school let out, was the perfect time to quite literally get away.

"Mummmmy!" Madeline sang with her nose practically pressed to the glass of a cold case holding pastries and other confectionary treats. "Can I please have a croissant?"

Sybil looked to Tom, rolling her eyes as she unzipped her wallet and stepped up to the counter. Her and Tom ordered their desired caffeinated drinks and as the barista stepped away from the counter, turned their attention back to their daughter.

"Madeline, we're going to be eating dinner on the plane soon, darling. And you ate right before we left the house."

"But the croissants here are so good!" she whined.

Sybil leaned into Tom, her husband and best friend who had his hands stuffed tightly into the pockets of his faded jeans while he hovered over her shoulder. "She's only had a croissant from here once...unless you're sneaking her airport croissants on your off days…"

Tom raised his hands in surrender. His brow furrowed as well. "Don't look at me," he whispered back, now with eyes that cast upon his daughter. "She has your appetite…"

"And your metabolism," Sybil reminded. "I don't want our child to be eight-hundred pounds."

Tom eyed her. "Am I eight-hundred pounds? This is news to me."

"No," Sybil droned. "But your family has always been much…" Her voice trailed off and she sighed. "The doctor said that all of the sweets will only mess with her medicine." The concerns Sybil voiced were new, but had been persistent in her mind since the child was officially diagnosed with ADHD just a few months ago. This was, of course, after the couple spent several years speculating, guessing for themselves that the toddler had far more energy and attitude than any other little girl her age.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Not this again, Sybil, please. Yes, he said that excess sugar would not help her moods, but he also made it clear that no child should be allowed sweets and fats in excess. Regardless of her condition, no, we shouldn't give her a ridiculous amount of sugar—"

"Please do not call it a condition!" Sybil snapped. "I want her to be normal, Tom," she hushed. "I want her to have friends and to know that she is beautiful and loved."

"Yeah?" Tom snarked. "Do you? Well I want all of those things too, but I don't think a smoothie and a croissant are going to ruin her social life." A pause and then: "She's seven, Sybil."

Sybil thought for a moment, looking as if she was biting the inside of her lip to keep herself from saying something unsatisfactory. "She's sitting next to you on the plane. Meaning you'll be in the middle so you can handle the inevitable energy crash that occurs halfway over the Atlantic. And your broad shoulders and man legs can handle it, got it?"

Tom sighed. "Deal."

Sybil looked up to the man at the counter and handed him a note that more than covered their order; her smile told him that he and his coworkers could keep the change. With their drinks in hand, Sybil and Tom walked away silently, leaving behind the small disagreement they'd just had. Tom pressed his hand to the back of Madeline's neck, alerting her that they were moving and she was meant to follow. With a wide smile, she looked up to her father. Unable to hide his own adoration, he smiled back, before wrapping his arm around Sybil's waist and pulling her in to kiss her temple. If she was still agitated by their argument, he couldn't tell, as immediately her body softened into him.

At the gate, Sybil and Tom sat near a window while Madeline moved about, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she sipped at her banana mango iced-drink - her croissant long gone. To pass the time, Tom was playing a game on his iPhone, an activity Sybil ignored as she instead obsessively checked her email. Nearby, other families and several businessmen waited for their plane to board, while the Branson family waited for Max and Jennie's arrival.

"I thought we said no phones," Tom teased. He did not even bother to look at Sybil or the phone she held, swiping down with her thumb to produce a loading wheel that revealed zero new messages.

"This isn't for work," she said, her words both a warning and a reminder. They motivated Tom, because quickly his phone was put away, stuffed in his back pocket as he leaned into her.

A long, heavy sigh left his lips. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sybil gave quickly. It seemed she wanted to believe her own words as much as she needed him to. "I just would like them to call before we leave so I don't have to worry about it on the plane."

"See, I'm hoping they don't call...for that very reason."

Sybil looked to him. "Don't you just want to know?"

"Well, yeah," he said with a half-shrug showing his overall indifference. "But even if we find out…"

Sybil sat forward. With her mouth slightly agape she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Find out what?"

"Whatever we find out!" Tom said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Another sigh and he was calm again, reminding himself that this was not just his problem but hers as well. It was a ridiculous notion considering how long that had been the case. "I just don't want bad news. And if we get good news, well it's not really good news because it doesn't explain anything."

She turned to him again, her head cocked in a direction that somehow made the space they shared more private. "I just want a reason, you know?"

Tom forced a small, crooked smile. Swiftly, he had Sybil in his arms, pulling her in so her head was on his chest. With her this close, he pressed a determined kiss to the crown of her head. "I love you, Syb. And I love our family. I just want us to not think about it for awhile. We've had a lot going on lately and we deserve to relax. You know, maybe it won't be bad if we miss their call. Whatever is going on will still be here when we get back. A week or two won't make or break this whole thing…"

"I know," she tried.

"Stop, alright?" Tom insisted, now cupping his wife's face in his hands. "I'm serious. Just let it go for a little while."

"But—"

He stilled her lips with a kiss one that despite her worry she was all too willing to reciprocate.

"Enough."

"Mummy?"

"Yes, bug?" Sybil asked as she turned to her daughter, still wearing the smile her husband had given her.

"When are we leaving?"

"Max and Jennie should be here soon and then we'll all get on the airplane." The answer didn't seem to amuse Madeline, shown by the way the little girl just stared at her mother, blinking. Sybil's smile faded. "Soon, bug," she assured.

"Is that okay, Mads?" Tom asked - a stitch of sarcasm in his voice.

Madeline shrugged and jumped up onto her father's lap causing Tom to let out a subtle "oof!" as his body accepted her weight. As she made herself comfortable, she tilted her drink her father's way, offering him some of what was left of her now watered down concoction. He happily accepted, using the opportunity to also tickle at his daughter's side, causing the young girl to drop her head back and laugh.

"Oh!" Sybil said, sitting up. "Max and Jennie! That's them, right?" She let out, looking toward security where a tall boy and a much shorter girl separated slightly from the crowd.

Tom tried to look too, but with much less urgency. The more they both matured the more he was finding that Sybil was a far more protective parent, at least to Max. Perhaps Tom was reluctant to hover and push was because he knew what it was like to be a teenage boy who craved space, especially with a girlfriend. Tom often wondered why Sybil didn't remember that too, or if she did, why she still sometimes treated Max as if he was the ten year old they adopted. Then again, Tom knew he had his moments with Madeline, ones he prayed wouldn't someday put the two at odds in the way he had witnessed, and sometimes was still witnessing, with Sybil and her own father.

As surmised, the pair was Max and Jennie. Holding hands, the two teenagers walked toward the family and set down their bags. Jennie, looked up to Max, a bright smile gracing her features as she waited for him to speak. She was notably shorter than him, and her straight black hair was always tied back in either a braid or simple ponytail. Typically, the girl dressed simply in jeans and t-shirts. Here, even more so, with both her and Max wearing athletic shorts and university pullovers. Both were set to attend Oxford in the fall, a decision that Sybil and Tom saw still pained Max, but that they assured the boy his Cambridge educated father would be more than proud of.

"Sorry we're late. We didn't think security would take that long…"

Sybil and Tom said nothing and even Madeline sat watching with a hand on her hip and her depreciated drink in the other. The little girl, with her auburn mop of curls, slurped at the beverage as she took Jennie in.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Branson," Jennie beamed through the silence. "Again, thank you so much for inviting me along—"

Sybil smirked. "It's Sybil, Jennie…"

"And Tom," Tom said, almost as if to agree. They had gone over this with her several times, but aside from being quiet, Jennie was also particularly polite, making sure to always say hello to Sybil and Tom every time she came over to see Max. "And really, it was our pleasure. We're glad you could come…"

Sybil agreed with the sentiment, understanding that Tom was being genuine, while also silently alluding to the fact that Jennie's strict parents were hesitant in allowing her to make the cross-Atlantic trip with her boyfriend and his less than conventional family. Like Max, Jennie was also incredibly smart — nerdy even, if you asked for Tom's opinion. She came from a family of doctors and planned to eventually follow in her parents' footsteps. This fact was one that brought much joy to Isobel and worked to mollify Robert's fears after discovering the girl was half-Korean, something that also fascinated Cora in an altogether less than politically correct way. Of course Sybil and Tom paid no attention to the fact; their family was forever different - mismatched, and the way in which Max seemed to care about Jennie was endearing. Aside from Sam, Max struggled to let anyone else into his life after his parents death nearly eight years ago. That was until Jennie came along and Sybil and Tom watched their nephew open up rather willingly. Both watched wondering if Max was as terrified by the change in his own behavior as they were.

Overhead an announcement was made that their flight was boarding. Together, they all picked up their bags and headed for their respective gate. As they did this, Jennie greeted Madeline and even asked the young girl how her ballet lessons had been lately. Madeline, usually all too willing to start conversation, even with strangers, gave the teenage girl very brief answers before hiding behind Tom's thigh to ensure no other words would be exchanged.

They were some of the first passengers on the plane, and Madeline walked the aisle as if it were her own personal runway before plopping down in her assigned seat near the window. While her attention was often misdirected, the child perfected her parents' love of reading at an early age and used every chance she was given to display her ability. Behind her, Max and Jennie also took their seats.

Sybil helped Tom shuffle by her, tapping at his backside as he accepted his fate in the middle of her and their daughter on what was sure to be an arduous eight hour flight. All too quickly it was clear he harbored no hard feelings as he discreetly pressed a kiss to Sybil's exposed neck before the cabin became stuffy and crowded with leering eyes. Madeline had her own glance directed out the cabin window, her small fingers playing with the shade that hung above. Her absentmindedness had Sybil reaching forward to pull Tom in for a proper kiss, one that reminded him that this flight, like all of the others in more recent years, was far different from the ones the two used to take as teenagers.

From her purse by her feet, that of which also held several organic snacks for Madeline, Sybil's phone began to ring. She reached for the item and quickly placed it to her ear. "Hello?"

Tom heard nothing but mumbling as Sybil continued the call. He assumed it was the hospital calling; he and Sybil had several tests run recently, some specifically meant to screen for cancer and other illnesses that seemed to run in both of their families. At twenty-seven, both were remarkably fit, but constantly plagued with worry of things they could never seem to control.

"Yes," Sybil nodded, "I understand…" As her voice trailed off her hand reached up. She pressed a few idle fingers to her lips, an action she often did when contemplative or sad. "Yes, thank you. We appreciate the call." More silence and another nod. "You as well."

When Sybil hung up, she looked indifferent. Her fingers floated down from her lips and she continued to stare straight ahead, as if still lost in thought. Not wanting to disrupt her and possibly cause an unwanted emotional response, Tom proceeded with caution.

"Well?"

"Oh, we're fine," Sybil said cheerily as she faked a smile and turned to her husband. "No abnormalities or reasons for concern…"

"Even with—"

"With everything," Sybil said quickly. "They don't know what's causing it. They just said we should be patient." Tom sighed and sat back and Sybil suddenly felt bad for how she had delivered the news. She pressed a hand to his chest and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry. You're right, this is vacation and we won't talk about it, alright? No phones from here on out..."

Tom sighed again, but moved to grab for Sybil's hand and hold it in his own. He kissed her knuckles in apology before sitting back. The moment was gone.

Over her shoulder, Sybil checked on Max and Jennie, both of whom had already picked a movie and were making themselves comfortable, ready to watch. When she turned back, Madeline was sitting on Tom's lap, tapping at their own movie screen.

"What movie should we watch, mummy?"

"What do you think, Mads?" Sybil shot back, sounding just as interested in the task as her daughter seemed to be.

"Tangled!" Tom looked to Sybil who only kept a strong glance his way, alerting him that this was the type of thing he'd be best at resolving. The two had seen the movie so many times they could practically recite all of the dialogue between Rapunzel and Flynn, something they discovered after Madeline requested that very thing before bed one night.

"Why don't we see what else they have, love?" Listening to her father, Madeline leaned forward and began to swipe through the selections with her finger. "What about that one?" Tom suggested.

"Which one?"

"That one," Tom pointed. He couldn't read it, or rather, wouldn't; for this to work it had to be Madeline's idea. Life with children, Sybil and Tom were finding, often followed that logic.

"_The Goonies_?" Madeline read. "What's a goonie?"

"You're a goonie," Sybil jested with poke to her daughter's stomach.

Hearing their conversation and the subsequent laughter, Max sat forward, sticking his head into the space between his aunt and uncle's seats. "Wait, _The Goonies_? That's a good movie, Mads. You should watch it."

Her skepticism dissolved and suddenly the child seemed quite interested. "What's it about?"

"Best friends and pirate ships and buried treasure. And there's a lighthouse just like the one near our beach house."

Madeline made a face. "Alright," she settled rather easily. Sybil and Tom exchanged an appreciative glance. Sybil then turned back to her nephew and gave him her flat hand. In return, Max gave her a high-five.

Together, the family sat back. Halfway through the movie, dinner was served and by the credits began to roll, the lights were turned down, allowing an already sleepy Madeline to find slumber as she clung tightly to her father's arm. Behind them, Max and Jennie laid similarly, both of them with hoods pulled up to hide their sleeping faces.

Tom was far too uncomfortable to sleep, but he resolved to at least shut his eyes and pretend. This was how he remained until he felt Sybil stir beside him, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked immediately. "Cold?" he guessed.

She looked sad but nodded all the same. "M'fine, sorry."

Tom smirked. "What's going on?"

"I'm just thinking…"

"Well, stop that," he admonished jokingly.

Sybil forced a small smile. "I know you don't want me to think about it and I don't either but I just have this awful feeling that it's me, you know?"

Tom kinked his forehead in confusion. "No, I don't, actually..." His defensiveness, especially with Sybil, could sometimes be confused as anger.

Sybil knew this, and excused his sometimes harsh tone. "I just mean…" She sighed. "I love Madeline and I love Max and I love our life together but sometimes I feel like something is missing and I get really upset thinking that it's my fault—"

"Syb, how would it be your fault? They said everything was fine. They said we're both very normal—"

"Well, the stress..."

"I've been stressed too..."

Sybil sighed. "Maybe, I don't know, with how work has been lately it's my body. Maybe I'm too thin or I'm not eating the right things or—"

"Sybil, please, alright? I'm not having this discussion because this isn't your fault. You heard the doctors, sometimes all of this just takes time."

"It didn't take time before, Tom! We weren't even trying then!"

Feeling as if he had failed her, or rather, could not offer a better response on a crowded plane floating in the midnight sky, Tom continued with a heavy sigh. "But we're going on vacation. No work or stress for another week. That's a lot of time..."

His voice was so low and honest, Sybil's eyes darted upward, shadowed by eyelashes made heavy under the weight of mascara. She reached up and pressed a hand to his cheek, causing him to close his eyes as her thumb caressed his bottom lip. "You're right. No work, no stress. Just you and me. Just like it used to be..."

"Well," Tom said, rolling his eyes upward in thought, "you and me and Madeline and Max...and Jennie."

Sybil giggled. "Yeah, so I guess things are a bit different."

"Some things," he agreed. "But some things haven't changed at all."

In the stillness of the moment, brought on by honesty and the inclination toward intimacy the two constantly shared, Tom realized how small Sybil's body was. Even so, she was the same girl he had fallen in love with, the woman who now loved him with everything in her. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his shoulder — a sign she hoped would translate to say more when little else of him was exposed to her in the darkness of the airplane cabin.

"No," she breathed out softly. "Some things haven't changed at all."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are forever lovely!

x. Elle


	2. Heaven Is Here

**A/N****:** So much positive feedback from the last chapter; I was thrilled! Thank you for the kind words. I'm so happy to have you all back!

This is being posted as a gift to **AngieMagz**. Last night she posted the most beautiful drawing of BC Sybil and Tom - I nearly wept. Never before has there been someone who is so supportive of my writing (most of you tie for an extremely close second) and I adore her for it. Check out the drawing if you get a chance! Homegirl is SUPER talented!

* * *

"We are still dreamers in our dead sleep, naked and tangled, twisted in love  
And tonight we are the only ones who feel it  
So let it last all night, so let it last all night  
Let the fire surround us, let it all cave in, let it all burn wild  
We are leaving it all behind, we are leaving it all behind  
Heaven is here."  
-_Heaven Is Here_, Dashboard Confessional

* * *

Aside from the long strip of highway that ran through the center of the Cape, there was not much concrete on the peninsula. The earth here was delicate, constantly moving and changing: soft at summertime as the sand yielded to summer feet, then harsh in the later months of the year, where dustings of snow covered the beaches and pushed most residents to more quaint surroundings in cities that were actually familiar with handling winter weather.

The driveway leading up to their beach house was no exception to this rule; it was made completely of gravel and marked by two ruts about six feet apart where large vehicles much like the rental car Tom drove sat vacant on the off-season. After the family unpacked, walking or biking would be the preferred method of travel. For Madeline, dancing worked as well, shown as the young girl hopped out of the black SUV and ran immediately for the grass leading down to the beach.

"Madeline Scout, don't you dare think about even touching that water right now!"

"But muuuuuum!" the smallest Branson exclaimed as she threw her arms down in emphasis. "We're at the beach!"

"And it's midnight," Tom sassed, knowing his stern eyes and tone would cause his daughter's feet to still.

"Fine," she huffed as she walked back to the car.

Already Max had popped the trunk and began to disseminate bags to their rightful owners. Above, a single floodlight shined down on the family, illuminating the area where they parked near the house's back door. As they made their way inside, the same light clicked off, welcoming with it the still night where most inhabitants were already lost in slumber.

"Max!" Sybil called out as they all made their way down the long hallway leading out of the mudroom and toward the main part of the house, "Please show Jennie where her room is and where the—"

"Yes, Aunt Sybil, I got it…"

"Oh...okay," she muttered quickly. In doing so, she was naturally drawn to Tom who only smirked as he nudged her further ahead. "Am I being pushy? Was that pushy?" she whispered.

"Everything seems pushy when you're eighteen, no?" Tom confirmed with a small smile. "Now c'mon. Let's get Mads in bed so we can—"

Sybil raised an eyebrow. "Now who's being pushy, hmm?"

Tom chuckled. "Me. And I'm going to be even pushier if you don't hurry it up. Christ, what did you pack that you're walking so slow? I could carry you and your things and walk faster."

Dramatically, Sybil allowed Madeline's duffel bag and her own suitcase to hit the floor. "I can walk just fine," she said proudly with a nose turned upward. "But if you're offering to take our things, I certainly am not going to complain." Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Love youuu," she sang before heading up the stairs behind Madeline, moving at a much faster pace now without her luggage.

At the top of the landing, Madeline stood with her hands on her hips. A perplexed face accompanied the attitude in her position and upon hearing her mother's footsteps the girl turned around, ready to unload. "Mum!" she whispered. "Why does Jennie get the bedroom with the big girl bed?"

"Because she's a big girl, Mads," Sybil said simply. "You have a big girl bed too, darling, it's just...smaller."

"But when I got my big girl bed at home you said I could get the big girl bed here because this is our other home and—"

"And Jennie is a guest here, right? We want her to be comfortable. Besides, you have your own room. The painters just made it that bright green you like. It's all yours just like Max has his room and while Jennie is here, she'll have her own room."

"Fine," she huffed.

Sybil followed her daughter into her bedroom, watching as once again, she was defeated by the sentiment behind the word "No". As Madeline plopped up onto the bed, she crossed her arms, an act that was almost meant for her father's eyes as Tom entered the room.

"What now?" he asked, leaning into Sybil. She was already opening Madeline's bag and pulling from it the pajamas she had packed on top. Tomorrow, when the sun was on their side and they all had food in their bellies, they'd unpack, but for now Sybil had everything set so as to coax the house to sleep.

"She's upset that Jennie gets the big girl bed."

"She has a big girl bed," Tom threw back.

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I know that. Just leave it, alright? Do me a favor and grab her some water from the tap in the bathroom? She needs to take her medication at the same time she normally does so I'm going to have to set an alarm for us and wake her up in the middle of the night—"

"Hey, it's fine, alright?" Tom hushed as he reached out to touch Sybil's shoulder. "We're on holiday, right? It's time to relax. She's fine." Sybil's face didn't change, and when Tom realized why this could be, he sighed. "But I will go get that water because I love you and I want to make your life easier…"

Feeling bad, Sybil reached for Tom again and stopped his movements. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll be better in the morning when I realize that we're here and she's gotten some sleep…"

"Yeah," Tom brightened. "Exactly."

Behind them, Madeline was oblivious to her parents behavior, choosing instead to undress and walk to her dresser to retrieve the pajamas her mother laid out. She did so impatiently, tossing the nightgown quickly over her head only to find it was on backward. This was how Tom found her as he exited the bathroom, her elbows bent as she did her best to twist the fabric back around.

"Do I take these now?" Madeline said as she got into bed. Sybil sat beside her and smoothed her daughter's hair back lovingly.

"No, bug, mummy's going to wake you up in a bit and you'll take them then."

"And whyyyy do I need these?"

"Because we talked to the doctor and we're going to try them, remember?"

"But I can still do my ballet and my yoga?"

"Yeah, love, you can," Tom chuckled. "This is just another option."

The young girl sighed. "Alright," she let out. As was typical of her nature, she grabbed for her stuffed animal and sat back against her propped up pillows. "Can we have bacon in the morning?"

Sybil looked to Tom. He nodded. "Of course."

"And french toast?"

"Whatever you want."

"Alright," she accepted again, this time much more agreeably. "Here," she said, handing her father her stuffed animal. It was a monster named Beezly, one that her Aunt Edith had made especially for her on her third birthday. As Tom took the matted toy in his hands Madeline laid back, taking her pillows with her. When she was laying down, Sybil stood. Again, she smoothed back her daughter's hair before giving the girl a goodnight kiss. Tom followed, accepting the hug his daughter also gave him before passing Beezly back to her.

As the parents shut the door behind them they hoped Madeline would soon find sleep. The plane ride had not been much help in that regard and they assumed that despite her exhaustion, she'd be up early, ready for breakfast and a long day down by the water.

In the hall, Sybil rested her hands on Tom's shoulders and pushed him off toward their room. In actuality, it used to just be his room, and Madeline's room was the one Sybil was meant to keep. Even Martha knew, however, that all of the teenage girl's time was spent in Tom's bed. Ironically though, for as safe of a place as the beach house was for Sybil and Tom to be themselves, it was also the one place they never made love. They did other things, and on one occasion in an earlier year, the two got carried away, but like an unspoken promise their time was spent more wisely. Here they were the teenagers the world didn't allow them to be back home: laughing, kissing and sharing secrets in Tom's bed while the waves lapped at the sandy shore two floors below. It only made sense, that ten or so years later, this was the bedroom the two claimed as a married couple.

Though their direction was clear the two stopped, staring instead at the light on in the bathroom and the way Jennie, a girl older than Sybil ever was visiting this home as a teenager, stood on her toes to lean up to kiss Max. Upon seeing the show of affection, Sybil and Tom stepped back. Even so, Max must have heard them and resumed his intended activity of brushing his teeth. His shyness had Sybil laughing as her and Tom finally got into their own room - the light on and the door latched.

The two had just completed their own nighttime activities and were now finally getting ready to collapse into bed. "That's a first," Sybil said, as she took off her t-shirt.

Following suit, Tom shrugged, placing his button-up on an empty hanger in the nearby closet. "I mean, they are dating."

"I know they're dating, love, I just haven't ever seen them do anything other than hug, s'all."

"Well your parents never saw us have sex but that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Her husband's blunt retort had Sybil raising an eye. In contest, she stepped into him, now wearing nothing but a light camisole and a pair of simple underwear. "I hope he's happy, you know? That's all that matters. I just hope Jennie makes him happy and that they treat each other right…" By now her arms were slung lazily around his neck as her eyes took in his lips. He was dressed similarly in a pair of sleep shorts with their untied drawstring cord hanging below his waist.

Tom reached out for her hips. "I think you can hope for those things, Syb…"

"But?"

"But he's a teenage boy. You know, he'll have lots of girlfriends, I'm sure."

"Don't you like Jennie?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, she's great and I think the two are a good match but I think it would be wise for Max to keep his options open."

Sybil's eyebrows raised again and this time she leaned back as if to question Tom's statement. "His options? Are you speaking from personal experience?"

"No, I'm not. But I imagine that you want him to have a normal university experience. I just worry that maybe a girlfriend might complicate things. You said it...he should focus on his studies and have fun."

"He can have fun with Jennie," Sybil stated in retort.

"Yeah, or he could take it easy. I don't know…"

Sybil stepped back and walked to the bed. The action seemed natural as Tom followed, both of them turning down the comforter and placing the throw pillows on the carpet below. "Do you wish you had done that?"

"Syb…" Tom warned.

"I don't know! You didn't go to college. Do you wish you had? Is that something you feel like you missed out on?"

"No," he said quickly as if the answer was obvious. "Not at all. I think university is about finding yourself—"

"Well I went to school and I got to find myself a bit…"

"And?"

"And it only confirmed that I needed you and wanted to spend my life with you and that I was going to find a way to do both. You know, dance and you."

"Sybil, I knew who I was even back before sixth form. My mom died and I just constantly felt I had to prove myself, you know? To the kids at school. To your dad. To you…"

Sybil leaned into Tom on the bed. "Tom, you never have to prove yourself to me. Stop it, alright? You're making me feel bad."

He reached out to caress her cheek. His thumb and forefinger toyed with the small studded earrings she wore as she softened into him. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. This is all just a lot. Max's life is in transition and a lot of this is new territory for us. We never really had typical teenage relationships and we didn't go to university—"

"Juilliard was—"

"Was difficult and challenging and you learned a lot, but I wouldn't call it a typical university," Tom finished.

Sybil sighed and buried herself deeper underneath the covers. "You're right." There was silence before she rolled over on her side facing Tom, her mind still running, moving rather quickly to the next topic. "Was I pushy before? I mean, am I being overbearing? I don't want to be that helicopter parent and I feel like I haven't been. I mean, we've always given Max his space and I think we've been liberal with the rules and consistent with the discipline when it's necessary…"

"I don't think you were pushy, I just think he wants his space right now. He's gotten into Oxford and he has his new car and he has so much freedom ahead of him and maybe he's growing a bit impatient having to wait for it."

"Is he embarrassed of me? Like, what's the deal? Jennie seems to like us. We're not that much older than them. I feel like we relate well enough—"

"Syb, he's eighteen, alright? Most people at eighteen are just trying to figure it all out. You know, he's been defined by so many things he couldn't control for the longest time. First it was who his mum was, then it was the cases Matthew was assigned to, then he was an orphan and then he had this new family and he had to find his place in all of it. Now he has the option to kind of go into the world on his own and see who he is without all of that stuff."

"But we're his family, Tom. He's my nephew and I love him and would do anything for him," Sybil said strongly. Her words came almost like a warning, one Tom certainly didn't need but that worked to cover the fact that Sybil felt as if she might cry.

"I know. He's my nephew too, you know," he added, causing Sybil to smirk as she remembered how their wedding had made that fact official. Before that, both Max and Tom struggled to define their relationship. "Just let him be. He's a good kid. I think we've done an okay job and that Mary and Matthew would be proud."

"I know they're proud," she said to the ceiling. "They have to be so,_ so_ proud of him. He's the best kid."

"Yeah," Tom nodded.

Sybil sighed and rolled further into him. Immediately her arm was over his chest and she hugged him close while their waists swam beneath the covers. He kissed the crown of her head loving how even after all these years the two found the most comfort when connected.

"We're doing the right thing, right?" Tom asked, cutting through the silence and inevitably causing Sybil to look up. "With Mads' meds," he explained.

"Yeah," Sybil nodded, adding to her forced conviction a heavy exhale. "The doctor said we just need to be flexible. I mean, she eats well and she's constantly moving and she reads and we play games. Her memory has been better," Sybil pointed out.

"Yeah," Tom accepted with a lighter tone. "Yeah, I guess it has been." A beat. "You know, when you set the alarm, I can get up. You worked yesterday and I didn't—"

"You worked from home," Sybil pointed out.

"Alright, but I can do it. You sleep, I'll—"

"Well this conversation will be moot if we don't get to bed soon…" Sybil detached from Tom and leaned over to turn off the light. As she turned back, Tom was in his previous position, a wide smile gracing his features. "What?" she asked cluelessly.

"You're pretty, Sybil Crawley…"

She quirked an eyebrow in question. "That's not my name anymore…" she whispered before kissing Tom's lips. It was chaste at first but the way she was on all fours in front of him with just a hand touching his chest they both craved more.

As Tom pulled away, he brought her bottom lip with him, pulling on it with his teeth. All of her was immediately on fire, her lust for this man, her best friend, fighting the exhaustion present in her limbs. "You will always be Sybil Crawley to me."

"Yeah?" she teased.

Tom could only nod before kissing her again, this time tickling her sides, causing Sybil to fall back onto the mattress. He hovered above her causing his previously quaffed fringe to fall down onto his forehead. His hands managed a careful balance between tickling and caressing, causing a substantial amount of goosebumps to appear on Sybil's olive skin. His lips were on her neck, nipping and softening into the curve of her collarbone before seizing her mouth once more. Though the two were barely clothed and laying on a bed, the situation was not nearly as sexual as it could have been, and yet Sybil was still made to come alive by Tom's actions, her hands running up and down his back, stopping beneath his sleep shorts to give his backside a pinch.

Tom jolted at the situation. "Easy now," he warned. "No sex in this bed," he warned in an extremely serious tone. "Levinson house rules."

"Tommmm," Sybil whined. "That is very unfair! You can't lead a girl to water if you're not going to let her drink..."

Tom dropped his head back to laugh. The moment was gone. "That's not what that idiom means."

Sybil groaned and rolled over. "You just used the word idiom in bed. There goes my mood."

Tom was still laughing but he turned to her and propped his head up on his elbow. "Okay, I'm sorry. C'mere…" he tried, gently pulling on the back of her neck. Just as she was before, Sybil pressed her head to Tom's shoulder, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

"You know what used to be the best?"

Tom looked down to her. "When you used to think my intelligence was sexy?"

Sybil looked up to him and smirked. "I still think it's sexy. I'll always think you, all of you, is sexy, Tom," she said quite honestly. "But no. I was just thinking about us and how many hours we spent in this bed. Do you remember that year we came, we were sixteen I think, and it just rained the entire time? Those really loud, sky cracking thunderstorms that felt like they shook the house? And my gram used the time to sort the office with Anna and you and I just spent all day in bed? I think we made out for hours on end that week. Nothing more. I just remember feeling like I couldn't get enough of you. That was enough for us. And it was fun and we laughed and I think my lips actually, truly hurt by the end but I didn't care." She paused. "I couldn't stop," she breathed out raspily.

"If we didn't have kids or jobs I would kiss you forever, Syb."

"I know you would."

He looked down to her again, this time trying to see if that was nostalgia or overall melancholy he detected in her voice. "I want us to get some sleep, okay? And then sometime this week, either after Mads goes down for bed or if they go out to get ice cream or—"

Sybil looked up to Tom, her eyes just as bright and confident as they once had been. The stress of motherhood and work and the conflicting demands those roles imposed on her was wiped clean by the thought of spending such simple time with her best friend. "Okay," she said eagerly. "Please."

Tom smiled and kissed her. It was subdued and could have been so much more but as the two pulled apart, it seemed that it was enough as they slowly opened their eyes and found they had a hard time readjusting to the light.

Soon the lamp on Tom's nightstand was turned off. As if on cue, Sybil rolled over and Tom nestled in behind her, wrapping a strong hand around her waist, using his other arm as a pillow above his head. Through the silence, just when Tom thought that maybe she had drifted off, Sybil let out a final thought: "I meant what I said, Tom. You are very sexy. Always."

In response, he kissed the back of her neck. He didn't need words to tell Sybil just how sexy he found her. She didn't either. Actually, just like that day several years ago, she was sure that Tom and her could be silent and still manage telling one another just what they were feeling. It came so easily now, in touches, glances, and kisses, that the two couldn't imagine a time when such a thing was a secret.

* * *

x. Elle


	3. Things I Don't Understand

**A/N****: **I think I probably should have grouped this chapter with the last one, but I liked the idea of them arriving and now, them waking up on the Cape, being two separate ideas and therefore two different chapters. Anyway, I believe you all replied, but everyone voted for two chapters (meaning this one and the next one - not including the previous one...wow, I've really made this more complicated then it needs to be, haven't I?). If you're reading this and you're like 'hey, I didn't vote' it's because you don't review and I don't know you exist. You should review so I will know you exist and then we can chat and be friends and I'll tell you how cool you are for reading my stuff.

Okay, moving on! I promise there is a method to my madness. Quite literally. Enjoy!

* * *

"How infinite is space  
And who decides your fate  
Why everything will dissolve into sand  
How to avoid defeat  
Where truth and fiction meet  
Why nothing ever turns out as you planned"  
_Things I Don't Understand_ - Coldplay

* * *

It was actually both Sybil and Tom that administered Madeline's medicine. When Sybil's alarm went off and she attempted to quietly step out of bed, she found that Tom was sitting up too, throwing a shirt on just as she slipped into her silk robe. The process happened quickly, and when it seemed that Madeline was more than ready to accept sleep again, the two repeated their earlier routine of kissing the child's forehead before retreating back to their bedroom.

Upon return, Sybil took off not only her robe, but all of her underlying garments as well. Tom followed suit, and the two slept naked, tangled up in one another just as they used to when they were teenagers and the central air in her parents' old home hadn't yet traveled to Sybil's back bedroom. Their nakedness happened in such a haze that when Tom awoke to find his hand on the underside of Sybil's breast, he seemed rather surprised. Parenthood hadn't allowed this in quite some time and he wondered if the jet lag was making them more bold or just more careless.

"Syb," he whispered softly into her neck. "Sybil…" he tried again, this time pressing a kiss to the base of her spine where wisps of hair covered her nape in evidence of a sound night of rest.

Tom could tell by the way her breathing changed that she was awake, but actively neglecting to open her eyes. She had always been a difficult one to rouse in the morning, and that fact did not change any once children and a career entered the picture. In fact, it made her habit all the more resolute.

"Sybil Josephine," Tom whispered, this time his voice gruff as his hand traveled southward to rest between her legs. With extremely deliberate actions, he ran his middle finger up and down her lower lips, all the while allowing his palm to apply pressure to the base of her belly. "Sybil—"

He was stopped by her, now with heavy lidded eyes, staring up at him as she gave him a lazy kiss. The hand that was previously on her side now reached up to grip his neck as their embrace turned into something more. Tom's hand was moved from it's comfortable position and already finding new tasks, that of cupping each tit and licking at the soft skin in an attempt to arouse her further.

It seemed that such plans were feeble as Sybil had already grabbed his length and began to direct it toward her center. He didn't need coaxing and neither did she and when the two came together, everything was so slow and languid that they nearly had to remind themselves that despite being on vacation, the same amount of responsibilities existed on the Cape as in London. As Sybil raked her fingers against Tom's scalp and he released a low groan, one of those responsibilities rapped at the door, pulling them both quickly to the present. The sound stilled the rocking of their hips as simultaneously their eyes widened, becoming more well acquainted with the morning sun and the reality of the family that existed outside of their bedroom door.

Sybil dropped her arms from where they gripped Tom's back and moved to help prop herself up on her elbows. She went to call out, but already Madeline's voice could be heard on the other side, making her presence known.

"Mummy! Daddy! I'm ready to go to the beeeeach now!"

Sybil dropped her head back onto Tom's pillow. "Doesn't she know we're trying to give her a brother or sister?"

The statement that was supposed to make Tom laugh had him instead looking to the door, a less than pleased expression on his face. "Madeline, it's not even seven AM yet, love," Tom called back. "Mummy and Daddy want to sleep."

"Noooo," she droned as if to make her parents sound stupid by reminding them of their earlier pact. "We need to make breakfast and then we need to go to the beach! Max and Jennie have already gone for a run and they were going to get donuts but I told them you promised me french toast and bacon. I did not give up donuts for nothing, daddy!"

Sybil looked to Tom. "You did promise her..."

He met her statement with an eye roll. "Okay Mads, why don't you go get into your bathing suit and put on some sunscreen while we get out of bed?"

"I already did that," the little girl stated. "And my bag's packed by the door! If you don't come out here—"

"Whoa!" Tom let out. "Enough with the sass, young lady, got it?" He imagined his daughter standing on the other side of the door with a very deflated sense of self. Perhaps her hand had fallen from her hip while her lips pouted, causing her nose to scrunch. "Go turn on the television in the family room and your mum and I will be right down."

Madeline sighed and turned back for the stairs. "Okay," she breathed out as she moved her weight slowly to the first step.

With her gone, Sybil looked down to where Tom was still inside of her. She laughed into his shoulder as he slowly slipped out. Immediately, she was reaching for her underwear from the floor. Topless she walked to her suitcase to retrieve a sports bra and one of her old dance shirts. As she slipped these on and went to look in the mirror to throw up her hair she saw Tom, still naked, his head hung while he sat motionless on the edge of the bed.

She turned to look at him. "You okay, babe?"

He nodded. "Yup, I'll just, uh, go take care of this…" His voice trailed off as he stood up. He grabbed his sleep shorts from the floor and used them to feign decency until he was completely hidden behind the door of the bathroom; almost instantly Sybil heard the shower run.

This was another thing the two forfeited. Before there was always an excuse for them to steal away, but with children, things were different. Sybil loved Tom more than she loved anyone else in the world and she adored all of the intimate ways they connected, but they could not be selfish and ignore their child's beckon. Of course Tom knew that, but it didn't help any that he had to finish himself off, treating the task like a chore he begrudgingly rushed through for the pure sake of comfort.

When he returned downstairs, Madeline was coloring at the large island in the center of the kitchen. Sybil, Max and Jennie were situated in various places around the outer edges where the refrigerator and burners on the stove made making breakfast the easiest.

He went to Sybil and placed a hand casually on her hip. It gave him leverage to look over her shoulder where a pile of ingredients were compiled with the intent of making their daughter both french toast and bacon.

"You okay?" she asked again, turning back to him. Apparently his answer from before did little to mollify her concerns and as she patiently waited for his response, Sybil's hand found his cheek and rubbed at the freshly shaven skin. She would have kissed him had she not forgotten to brush her teeth before coming downstairs, or, more properly, if their children and their guest weren't currently so close.

Tom nodded and faked a smile. "Yeah." He paused. "Fine."

Sybil allowed her hand to drop and as she turned to the counter she let out a long inaudible exhale. What was she doing wrong? And what could she do now to fix it?

This was their happy place, their safe haven amongst all of life's chaos. Surely her grandmother's absence and the presence of Max's girlfriend did not change things. She also wouldn't blame Madeline's recent diagnosis or the same jet lag they had been experiencing since they were children. If it was the years the two gained since last visiting, Sybil felt defeated. In those years they had gotten married, prepared Max for college, and made the decision that when she was of age, Madeline would forfeit private school for life at a ballet academy. These were things to be celebrated and they'd never brought the couple down before. In fact, on the morning before their departure, under the ruse that the two were running late getting to the airport, they shared an especially lascivious shower together. The connection was so electric, Sybil thought of it several times on the plane ride over, even going as far as to make a mental note to buy a pregnancy test when they finally made it to the market.

"Thanks for the coffee, Max," Tom said as he approached the far counter by the window and poured himself a cup.

Max looked over his shoulder to smile at his uncle. "Beach house tradition, right? Guests make the first meal."

Tom looked to Sybil and smirked. "Yeah. Right." His voice was slow, showing how amused, and possibly even impressed, he was by their nephew's memory. He sipped at his coffee then moved to where Madeline was sitting at the island. "You know, Mads, why don't we have what Max and Jennie are making and then tomorrow morning we can have french toast and bacon?"

Madeline looked to her father with a stare so intensely disapproving he nearly laughed. "I don't like that idea," she stated very sharply.

"Okay," Tom dragged out, "well I know Max and Jennie are going to make bacon, and I'm sure if you asked them nicely they—"

Her eyes remained stern. "But I don't want Max and Jennie to make breakfast. I want you to make breakfast. And _you_," she emphasized for the second time that morning, "promised me french toast and bacon."

Tom sighed and looked away, doing his best to regain composure before returning to the situation. When he looked back, Sybil was standing at the island near them, asking Madeline what she wanted to drink. A glass of chocolate milk was passed the child's way, and as she began to drink it through a straw, Sybil proposed an idea of her own. "Well, Max and Jennie can always make dinner. Why don't we all make breakfast together and then—"

"Fine," the child sighed. "And then we'll go to the beach, right?"

"Yes," Sybil smiled sweetly. "And then we'll go the beach."

"Hey Mads!" Max called out. "Come whisk these eggs for me, would you?"

Seeming to forget the way in which she was furious, Madeline jumped off the stool she sat upon and walked over to Max. The wooden crate that usually rested underneath the island until it was time for milk to be delivered, was used to hold the little girl's weight as she performed the task requested of her by her cousin. She did so proudly, paying no attention to Jennie and the way she always seemed to be smirking at her.

In their daughter's absence, Sybil stepped back into Tom and rested her body so she was practically sitting in his lap. Her arms snaked around his neck and she took the quiet moment as opportunity to press a gentle kiss to the corner of her husband's mouth. It was altogether subtle, yet sweet, and Tom couldn't help but to smile into the action.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No," he sighed. "I reacted in the wrong way. I was just—"

"I know. Me too," she agreed. This was Sybil's admission of weakness, showing just how much she felt she was failing him lately. He returned her earlier sentiment, this time fully grabbing the back of her neck with the hope of capturing more than just a chaste kiss. She obliged, but when the two separated, they didn't reconnect in the way they would have liked to. Instead, Tom nudged at her with his knee, signaling that they should move to stand. Sybil must have agreed because she quickly walked to the sink to wash her hands. The action reminded her of the way the two were after first revealing their relationship to her parents. In the back hallways of Downton, the garage, and even more public places like the library or living room, the two stole kisses and were then embarrassed to find Robert or Cora entering the room. It seemed that all of their time together and now the labels of husband and wife didn't keep their cheeks from flushing a pale pink.

"Jennie," Sybil spoke up softly to gain the girl's attention. "Did you sleep well?"

The teenage girl smiled. "Very well, thank you. This house is...it's lovely."

"Well we're glad you like it," Sybil accepted with a small laugh. "We enjoy it too. And, you know, if you need anything while you're here, don't be afraid to ask. It's your home for the next week too…"

Max shot his aunt a look, causing Sybil's words to die down. Seeing how bothered he was by all of this, Sybil's brow furrowed. Max was always kind to his aunt and uncle. This was obviously because he was altogether mild-mannered and by every definition, a good kid. Just a few moments ago, he helped Sybil and Tom out by distracting Madeline. He was accepting of her disorder in a way they knew few would be, and it was their openness with him that allowed the boy to always give them the same honesty in return. Somehow though, Sybil felt things changing, and much earlier than she had planned; Max still had two months before he ventured off to university. It was rare for them to have to discipline him and it was unlikely to happen now with him so close to leaving home. Still, Sybil was put off, and with her current insecurities over Tom's dismissal of their earlier interruption, Max's attitude was not aiding the situation any.

Sensing the tension, Tom requested Sybil's presence next to Madeline, the three creating a makeshift production line for the most efficient preparation of the french toast. This was, of course, Helen Branson's recipe and one that surely Madeline could make on her own from memory if only she were allowed to use the stove unsupervised. Max also knew it well, but he and Jennie tended the bacon and eggs, both teens lost in laughter at a joke purposely not shared with the rest of the family.

With their portion of the breakfast complete, Tom plated the french toast. Sybil helped Madeline jump down from her makeshift stool so the two could collect plates, napkins, and silverware to set the table out on the back deck. Not wanting to argue, this was where Tom and Sybil left their daughter, allowing her to prepare herself a plate on the agreement that she'd say grace prior to actually eating. When the two returned to the kitchen, it seemed that Jennie and Max were far too silent. Understanding that this was none of their business, especially considering the way Max was treating Sybil, both she and Tom collected their beverages then headed back outside. Shortly thereafter, the two teens joined them. Whatever it was that had them at odds in the kitchen was left there, shown by the way Max whispered something in Jennie's ear, causing the girl to look at him and smile.

At the opposite end of the table, Madeline droned on about her planned beach activities. Apparently, while Sybil and Tom took a moment to themselves that morning their daughter was already creating a mental to-do list, one that stated that a sand castle would be built but only after she had gone in the water — two actions that most definitely required her parents' involvement. Her chatter had Tom indulging her with questions while intermittently reminding the seven year old to eat her food. Meanwhile, Sybil mindlessly calculated what time Madeline would receive her morning pill. As Madeline told her father that she wanted to show him what she had been working on in her ballet lessons, Sybil made plans of her own. She imagined how she'd pack their beach bag, and how she'd instruct her sometimes sensitive daughter that despite all of the fun they were having, she still needed to wear plenty of sunscreen, stay hydrated, and now, medicate properly. Sybil just prayed the addition to their routine would go over without incident. After all, she reminded herself, this was her vacation too.

Unlike Madeline, Jennie and Max kept their conversation quiet. Or tried to, until the last of Max's words could be heard, alerting the rest of the table that they were about to open things up for discussion.

"Whatever, Jen. Go ahead," Max stated with a nod to his aunt and uncle using his half-full glass of orange juice.

"Well are you mad at me? I don't have to ask. I just thought you—"

"It's fine…" He sighed and Jennie, who was sitting next to him, smiled, hoping it was enough to ease the way in which Sybil and Tom looked at her so attentively.

"How did Mr. and Mrs. Crawley meet?" she asked sweetly. "Because I was just talking about how my parents were in residency when they met and they actually bumped into each other getting snacks for their day and it was funny because my dad bought my mum a breakfast burrito which is ironic because we're eating breakfast…" Her voice trailed off as she realized she was ranting and not making much sense. "Anyway, that doesn't matter, but—"

"Max's mum and dad?" Tom clarified as he dropped several pieces of bacon onto his plate. "That's who you're asking about?"

"Yes, of course!" Jennie beamed. She then looked down and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Though I guess I could be talking about his grandparents, which I'm sure that's a lovely story too…"

Sybil looked to Max, unsure if this was information he wanted shared. Tom certainly felt more comfortable if the words were to come from her mouth, but he understood her hesitance, especially as he too wondered if Max knew the story.

"Max, don't you want to tell Jennie?"

"I...I don't know it," he stated bluntly, not daring to look up at anyone. Even Madeline made a face as she took note of her cousin's harsh behavior. There were so many myths about ADHD, things that people criticized and used to pity children with the disorder. What they didn't know, was that the condition heightened a child's sense of perception, a trait Madeline had been showing signs of from a very young age.

"Do you want to know how your mum and dad met?" Sybil asked calmly. "It's a really great story. But I understand if—"

Still, his eyes remained on his plate while his fork poked at the last piece of bacon there. "Sure."

Her nephew's indifference nearly had Sybil in tears. Still, she resolved to tell the story to the best of her ability, hoping that the tale of instant chemistry would warm the boys heart enough so he could forgive his girlfriend for putting him in this position and being so innocently ignorant to the fact that she had done so. After all, Sybil was incapable of truly understanding Tom's pain even now that they were married, and she had known Mrs. Branson quite well.

"There was this charity event. Max's dad, Matthew, was new to the London scene because he had only just been hired at his law firm. So when you go to these things, they have everything set out. You don't have much say in what you'll eat or where you'll sit or who the speaker is but go because it's good publicity. I remember Max's mum, my sister Mary," Sybil said with a smile as she remembered all of this fondly, "was dreading this function in particular. It had rained for the past week and she didn't want to have to sit under a white tent in the rain. She also didn't want to have to walk on the wet grass, or wear a jacket because of the wind. She was very particular," Sybil stated in attempt to get Max to laugh. The boy remained emotionless. "So Mary didn't want to go and Matthew didn't want to go, but I guess it's good that the two did, or else Max wouldn't be here."

Tom looked to Sybil. He wished she was closer, for he wanted so desperately right now to squeeze her knee and urge her to keep going. This was good, he constantly reminded himself. Just because someone passes on doesn't mean you act as if they were never here at all. Though he was familiar with the pain of old memories that can't be recreated, Tom didn't want that for Max, but feared anyway that this was the choice he ultimately made and the direction his life was going. He was defeated by the thought considering he and Sybil's efforts to ensure the opposite.

"So," Sybil continued with a heavy sigh. "When they both arrived, separately of course, they found they were seated next to one another. They introduced themselves and were amused at best to find that they shared a last name. As they waited for the event to start, Matthew bought Mary a drink and the two tried to see if they were related. You know, Mary named all of our relatives and Matthew named his and they just couldn't find a connection. Matthew made a joke about how Mary was clearly trying to impress him with her lineage, but she admitted that she wished that were the case but instead she was just happy to find the two weren't related."

"It was clear that an attraction existed, but the plot thickened, you see, when everyone assumed that the two were married. And this happened because the charity must have assumed this as well, hence why the two were seated next to one another. Eventually, the two played along. At first Mary was a bit angry that people did not know who she was but Matthew really got her to lighten up, and when he walked her to her ride at the end of the night, the two shared a kiss. And Mary was very, very smitten. Which is saying a lot because my sister didn't show her emotions that way a lot. But Matthew broke down those barriers and they fell in love quickly and three months later they were married."

Jennie turned to Max, her face melting into her upstretched hands to show him how touched she was by the story. "Max!" she practically sang in adoration.. "That is precious."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Thanks, Aunt Sybil."

Tom took immediate note of his nephew's reaction and quickly moved to mollify it. "Well I'm going to go get the fruit salad. Max, wanna give me a hand?"

The boy didn't even question how it was that Tom, far broader than he'd ever be, needed help locating a serving spoon or carrying the bowl of fruit. Quickly, he was pushing his chair away from the table and scattering for the door, that of which slammed loudly behind him, even before Tom was able to get through.

Tom did not see them, but he knew Max had tears building in the the corners of his eyes and in an unspoken arrangement, he refrained from calling out after him. The moment made him think and with his nephew absent Tom was able to do so more freely. It had been fourteen years since his mother's passing. In just another year he'd be forced to acknowledge that he had lived more years without her, than with. With his palms pressed into the edge of the counter and his back curled, heaving in slow, unsteady breaths, Tom admitted to himself that he also didn't know how his parents met. He wondered what was sadder, admitting that or being forced to listen to such an incomplete love story. Because it is damaging to a child to hear so many memories that posed the pestering question of what could have been had fate not interfered. Instead, children should be blessed in the way Madeline was, in the way he and Sybil worked so diligently to prove to their daughter that love was real and tangible and good. And it didn't matter if Max had seen the same things. It is different with your parents gone, and even now, at the fresh age of twenty-eight, Tom was still struggling to come to terms with that.

Before today, Tom had never thought much about what he wanted for Max. For so long the boy was so independent and self-assured. Though they offered it willingly, he often denied help from his aunt and uncle and despite this sometimes being scary for the pair, he always proved that he was more than capable of figuring life out on his own. It was Tom who took Max to most of his university visits and it was Tom who took the boy to the dealership to sign the lease on his car. Never once did he consider the romantic love Max needed, probably because he assumed it would be another thing in his life that would fall into place if only he tried hard enough.

When Sybil returned to the kitchen alone, she put the top back on the tupperware containing the fruit salad. Silently, she moved to the refrigerator to put it away and when she stepped back into the space in front of her husband she simply pulled him into a strong hug. No words were said, but instantly his hands found her back and clutched her just as tightly. At one point she moved her head to kiss his cheek but then her mouth returned, resting deftly on his shoulder, her body still until he received whatever it was that he needed from her. With Tom being much taller, she was on her toes. They'd been here so many times before but even after all these years it was their favorite way to feel safe and whole again.

Separating, Sybil dropped her hands to Tom's lower back, searching his eyes for further requests. When she found none, and decided to step back, she was surprised to feel him cupping her face, bringing her lips toward his so he could keep her close in other ways. Maybe it was selfish, but Tom missed when Martha was alive, and for more than just the obvious reasons. The matriarch allowed the two freedom to find themselves, and when the sun set and the two walked back from town or nestled into one another beneath a blanket on the couch, the unlimited closeness they were allowed quenched a thirst that lasted them long into the following month when they finally returned to Downton. When she was around, her clear knowledge of Sybil and Tom's relationship was ultimately what caused her to give them so much privacy. And it was childish to miss that, but Sybil and Tom did.

When they detached and Tom's forehead dropped down to Sybil's, he began playing with her hands, the pad of a rough thumb paying special attention to the diamond, his mother's, and the band, one he had designed, resting so perfectly on her left ring finger.

"Every fucking time…" he muttered. He pinched at the bridge of his nose as he tried to laugh away the impending tears. "It kills me to see him like that."

Sybil reached up and smoothed back Tom's fringe. "It's because you're a good person, Tom. And you love Max and I love you for that and I know he does too. But you can't carry his pain and yours. He wouldn't want that. But you two don't speak about it. You know, maybe Jennie shouldn't have asked. It was an odd time to bring it up but it's clear Max hasn't opened up to her about it."

"I think that's his choice though, no?"

"It's absolutely his choice. But it is hard to love someone when they are so reserved. Whether he wants to admit it or not, that is a big part of the person he is. Just like all of these years later, you are who you are because of your parents being gone."

"Was it hard to love me?"

Sybil looked away, keeping her eyes shut as if to banish the thought. "I didn't really have a choice in that matter. But it became easier when you opened up to me about it. You at least acknowledged it and we went through it together. Jennie seems unable to even fathom the pain he's in and always will be in. I think if she understood even an ounce of it, she wouldn't have asked."

"Well she did ask. And it's not her fault," Tom quickly followed. "But it's also not his fault if he doesn't want to share that. I mean, I'm sorry but maybe she's just a girl he'll date and then they'll be other girls and someday someone great will come along and he won't have to hide it all anymore. It'll just be so easy for him to share everything."

Again, Sybil found herself pulling Tom in for a hug, this time resting her cheek on his chest while her arms wrapping tightly around his midsection. This was acceptance for what he said and appreciation of the man he was despite all that had happened to him. And she felt this way, of course, because he loved her regardless of her flaws. _Ugly parts_, she thought.

Finally, Tom spoke. "I think Madeline hates Jennie."

Loudly, Sybil laughed into Tom's chest, creating vibrations that beat along with Tom's heart. "Yeah, I think so too."

"No," Tom corrected. "_Hates_ her. Truly."

"She doesn't hate her, she's just not used to her. She's always been hesitant of strangers…"

"Strangers?" Tom whispered harshly, doing his best to keep his words away from the same two girls who were currently sharing time out on the porch by themselves. "She's been dating Max for too long to be a stranger! If she were a stranger, I certainly would not have invited her on holiday with us."

"Well, what do we do? I mean, what were we expecting? Madeline is seven and Jennie is eighteen. They're not exactly going to have much in common."

"But is it weird?" Tom asked honestly. "Like why does Madeline care? Jennie's nice and she's more than kind to Madeline. You're a girl! Is that normal?"

"I am a girl, Tom. Thank you for that eye-opening observation," Sybil quipped. "But I don't know. For awhile it was just Max and Sam. She was the only girl around and she probably liked it that way."

"Is it an ADHD thing?"

Sybil sighed. "I feel like everything is an ADHD thing now."

Tom sighed too. "Well for awhile everything for you was an affair thing. And for me a dead parent thing. And now for Max a dead parent thing. If Madeline's going to survive in this family, she needs to be some sort of fucked up too…"

"Tom!" Sybil shrieked, still doing her best to keep her voice down. "She's your daughter."

He sighed and grabbed ahold of her shoulders to ensure he was receiving her full attention. "Syb, please, alright? Obviously I don't wish those things upon her. I want what's best for her and Max. But, if anyone is qualified in handling life's bullshit...it's us. You worry too much."

"I do," she admitted honestly. "I worry about all of you." The simple thought had her exaggerating a pout.

"And then it makes me worry about you, so it's a bit counterproductive."

From the back stairwell, Max appeared, his steps halted by the presence of his aunt and uncle holding casual conversation by the sink. "Everything okay?"

"Yup," Tom nodded. He scuffed at the floor with his bare foot. "Great. You?"

"Stellar," he responded.

"Hey Max," Tom began, pulling the boy back to them once more. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked to Sybil, then back to the teenage boy. "Do you think Madeline hates Jennie?"

"Oh, absolutely," he stated plainly. Tom looked to the ground again, feeling pleased, and now thoroughly entertained by Max's honesty.

Sybil blinked at Max, unsure of what to say. Again, he stepped back into them. "I mean, it's alright." Then: "It's actually kind of funny," he admitted.

~!~

When everyone finally returned to the table they found that Jennie filled the awkward silence between her and Madeline by consolidating plates and beginning to pile dirtied silverware on top. If they had to guess, it was likely Jennie tried to incite conversation with Madeline, and after failing, moved on to at least appear useful to the child's parents. Madeline was never particularly malicious. In fact, all of her teachers, those of both academics and ballet, found the little girl to be quite congenial. But from an early age, Sybil and Tom noticed their daughter was quite competitive. This, they assumed, was just a manifestation of that, and as Max noticed, could merely be laughed at just so long as she remained indifferent, and not rude, to Jennie.

"I need to stretch!" Madeline insisted. The child jumped to her feet and ran for the door, reminding them of future years when chores or homework would be avoided in a similar way.

"Start on the floor, Madeline! I better not see a chair in that living room!" Sybil called out after her daughter. The statement then had her following Madeline back into the house to assist. Soon thereafter though Tom was pulling his wife upstairs with the explanation that they should use this time to ready themselves for the beach. Behind them, Jennie and Max were moving to the stairs to do the very same thing.

Once again seeking solace in their bedroom, Sybil went immediately to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Sorry," she said to Tom with a white mouth full of toothpaste foam. "Was it bad? My breath?"

Tom chuckled. "Who cares?"

"Well you. You might."

"Uh, no, Syb. It wasn't bad."

"Do you know infertility can cause bad breath?"

Tom looked to her a gave a humorous look of warning. "Yeah Syb, so can sleeping. And eating certain foods. Like garlic," he let out helplessly. "You're being ridiculous. You're not infertile, you're just crazy."

Sybil spit her swished around mouthwash into the porcelain sink. Using a dixie cup next to the sink, she rinsed again with water before clicking off the light and returning to the bedroom. "You are so sweet to me, Tom Branson."

Again, he was laughing. Sybil tossed her discarded shirt his way, only increasing the way he chuckled. "Hey, thanks for making the bed, jerk," she let out, unable to completely hide the small smirk on her pointed lips.

"Anytime."

"We need to unpack sometime today," Sybil thought as she now rummaged through her suitcase for one of her bathing suits. "What should we do after the beach?"

"I don't know," Tom sighed. "Nap? Eat?" He paused and dropped his head back — a clear sign his thought pattern was changing. "Can you please go five minutes without planning? Jesus Christ, where is the girl I used to come to the Cape with?"

"First off, that hurts. Secondly, the doctor said that plans were good for—"

Tom's shoulders dropped. "Stop it, Syb! I'm serious. We're on holiday. Pretend you know what that means."

Cheekily, Sybil flashed him an exaggerated smile. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Tom crossed in front of Sybil to use the restroom. Amidst their banter he had already changed into his swim trunks, a casual task despite the nakedness and a reminder that the two, above all else, were best friends. When he returned, he found that Sybil was already changed, but into a suit he had never seen before. It was different from what she usually wore and as she adjusted her breasts in the cups, he noticed all of the skin exposed to him — far more than revealed when she was a teenager.

In hearing his footsteps, she turned to him. "Does this look okay?"

Tom could only nod. "Yeahhhh," he managed slowly.

She threw down her hands in a huff. "I'm too old for it, aren't I? Is it too much? Edith said—"

Tom stepped into the space behind her and wrapped an arm around her midsection. "Definitely not too old. And definitely," he emphasized, "not too much." A supple kiss was placed to the pale skin of her freckly neck. "Do you think we can—"

"Aunt Sybil, do you have suntan lotion? I can't find mine," Max explained from behind the door.

Sybil looked to Tom with raised eyebrows. "No," she sighed. "We can't…" her voice trailed off as she moved to her luggage to grab her sunscreen. "Ever, apparently."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle


	4. Here We Are

**A/N****:** It's been awhile, no? This is less like an author's note and more just an honest confession: I've just been a bit off lately. Life has been extremely relentless and altogether unkind. I normally don't complain in that nature, and really, I'm not but I did just want to let everyone know why I have been absent. I'm normally very good about keeping a schedule and posting regularly because it's something I enjoy. Lately, I don't enjoy doing that because I'm not enjoying much of anything. So basically, I apologize. I know I hate waiting too long for updates (because I rarely remember what the story was about by the time updates are posted, etc) but I can't even tell you when that will happen. I'm currently on vacation and I will spend the next week at my beach house trying to decompress. I'm really really really hoping I'll have time to write. OH! And if we were PMing or if you so lovingly left me a review, I read them and legit have not responded yet because I deleted them from my inbox because they were giving me anxiety just sitting there. I wish I was kidding. I'll get around to them soon.

Anyway! Enjoy!

* * *

"Here we are with burning skin  
Where we've always been  
And we all collide  
In the rising tide  
Then weather in the wind  
We live our lives  
Like hands are tied  
And dead in days of dreaming  
Embrace the race  
Of every days  
But forsake the feeling  
Are we killing time  
While these days unwind?"  
_Here We Are _- Patrick Park

* * *

Descending the wooden steps down to the beach, Jennie raised a hand to her head to keep her baseball cap from flying off. She looked around, her eyes squinting, only to find that not much existed here except for sand, water and wind. The rock face behind them approached the shore and cut out a small crescent shaped section of the beach, secluding the area from the view of the nearest neighbor.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

Max nudged her with his towel, urging her to continue walking. "Who are you expecting?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Other families."

The two teenagers followed Sybil and Madeline to where Tom was already laying down their beach blanket. Unlike the sand Jennie was used to, her feet barely dug in here and when they did, a thicker, more black layer covered the bottoms of her feet, packing on much in the way it did upon the earth.

"My great-grandmother owned this beach. And now my aunt and uncle own it."

"Own it?"

"Well, yeah," Max stated plainly, clearly not understanding how insane such a statement could sound to the common ear. "Her husband, my great-grandfather, who I never met, was really big into wildlife preservation and the whale population around here was—"

"There are whales in this ocean?"

Max chuckled. "Yeah, Jen, there's whales in lots of oceans." Her eyes widened. "They're not going to swim up to you. This water stays pretty shallow for about a mile out."

"Oh...alright."

"So for awhile the whales weren't around here and there was this big outrage because they benefit tourism. And they liked this water so they came to swim here because it was quiet. And my grandfather agreed that he would allow marine biologists and all of these whale experts to come here, but only if he was given full rights to the land in front of the house. That way, he could monitor their treatment."

"So you own the beach?"

"Sybil and Tom do. And I imagine Madeline will someday…"

"You won't?"

"Well no. I'll have Downton and Mayfair. Mads will get the beach house and whatever house I assume they'll buy after I go to university." He said the last part quietly, not wanting to let Sybil and Tom know that he thought about their life without him quite often, all the while secretly hoping they never did the same. He wondered if they would treat Madeline differently, or if they'd have more children, or maybe work more or maybe even less. They had freedom with him gone, and freedom allowed for options, and subsequent decisions to be made.

"That's crazy."

"I mean, it is what it is," Max shrugged. They were at the blanket now, already setting out their chairs near where Tom and Sybil stood, applying more sunscreen to Madeline's freckled skin.

"But it's yours?" Jennie tried again. "Well, ours...theirs?" she settled awkwardly. "No one else will be here the entire time?"

"It's rare. My great-grandmother used to allow certain neighbors access. At night some people come here to fish. But most of the time, it's just us."

"Wow," she breathed out again. Again, her eyes scanned the horizon. "And the sun? Will that come out soon?"

Max looked to the sky and laughed. "That I can't promise. But I'll tell you you will still get a mean burn even if it doesn't…"

That was exactly what Sybil was doing to Madeline, the girls body spread into an exaggerated second position, looking much like a starfish, as Sybil sprayed suntan lotion the child's way. Tom went to sit and begin reading, but was stunted by the blowing mist of sunscreen.

"Syb, really?" he tossed over his shoulder.

"Well, it's windy!"

Madeline dropped her arms to her waist and turned her head over her shoulder to look at her father. "I can't be the swan queen with a sunburn, Daddy."

Tom looked to Sybil then back to his book. "Alright, love. You're right."

"Besides," Madeline continued, "our people burn."

The smirks both parents held before grew into full laughter. Madeline took note but made no comment on the matter, and instead moved toward her cousin. "Maxwell, would you like to go into the ocean with me?"

Max chuckled. "Sure Mads. Can Jennie come?"

Once again Madeline had her hands on her hips as she looked around Max's lanky frame toward where Jennie was sitting, applying sunscreen to her legs. Madeline shrugged as she looked back to Max. "I guess."

"Alright," Max sighed. The teenager pulled for the hem of his t-shirt to remove the article of clothing completely. If Madeline, with her lightly freckled complexion was fair, Max was somehow more so. He had a similar skin tone to his Aunt Sybil, something he clearly received from his mother - though it was noted that his father's genes certainly did not help to change that any. In fact, if they had, Max only guessed that he'd be a bit hairier by now, to at least give the illusion that his skin was not as pale as it truly was.

"Jennie," Max tried, through his girlfriend's name over his shoulder to where she sat. Her legs were covered and she had moved to her arms. "I'm going to go wade into the water with Madeline. Is that okay?"

Enthusiastically, Jennie nodded. "Yeah, absolutely. I'll just come down when I'm done…" Her voice trailed off as she felt how intensely Madeline was staring at her, now with narrowed eyes and a nose scrunched in quiet disapproval. "If that's alright," she finished.

"C'mon Max!" Madeline tried as she now grabbed her cousin by the hand to drag him off to the water with her. He went hesitantly, and not just because he knew the water would initially be quite icy in temperature.

As they reached the shore, Max turned back to find Jennie's eyes. His girlfriend simply waved, sending with it a bright smile. She was agreeable, if anything, and altogether very, very kind. Earlier, just as he was still doing now, Max was forced to remind himself that her question was not intended to upset him. In fact, he knew if she was aware of the crying he did in the upstairs bathroom, she'd feel wholly responsible and guilty for the rest of the trip, wearing that sadness as if she were the car that cut his parents' life short. But Madeline would eventually warm to her, Max thought — it was hard not to.

With foamy water kissing their toes, Max and Madeline stood at the point of the coast where the sand sloped downward, but not enough to diminish the force of the persistent waves.

"Hey Mads," Max attempted casually. It was also a plan to pull her closer to him, knowing how much the little girl fearlessly approached the ocean each year. "Jennie said she wanted to come to your upcoming recital. Is that okay?"

Madeline looked back to her cousin. Her current activity of searching for seashells in the tide was put on hold as she began to think. Just as she had done earlier when Max asked if Jennie could join them in the ocean, she shrugged. "I guess."

"She wants to see how good you are. She's never seen a ballet before—"

"It's not a full ballet. Ballets are en pointe," she stated proudly. "But she can come, I guess. If she wants to see a ballet you should have mum get her some tickets."

After all these years, Max was never put off by the way in which Sybil, his aunt, was Madeline's mother, and when Madeline spoke to him, not yet understanding that the world did not revolve around her in the way she thought, the girl referred to her mother as such. Really, it was what made his relationship with Madeline so complicated, or rather, confusing because it was not complicated at all. For all of Madeline's life, she was raised by the same two people as Max, and the two shared a home like brother and sister. Max was her cousin and she knew that, but she revered him like a brother, and though Max would take his parents back in a heartbeat, he appreciated the warmth that came with having a pseudo younger sister.

"I don't know if she'd want to go see a full ballet, but—"

"Well then why is she coming to mine?"

"Because she likes you, Mads, and she wants you to like her too."

"She's alright." Max gave his cousin a look, urging her to change her answer. "She smiles a lot!" Madeline revealed. "And since she got here, you're never home. Dad and I make dinner alone. And when mum gets home, it's just the three of us—"

Max blinked, trying to make sense of it all. "Madeline, when I go off to school, it's going to be you and your mum and dad for a very long time, bug."

"Well aren't you coming back?" the child practically yelled in disbelief. There was also a bit of horror in her eyes, that of which made Max smile as he went to erase all her doubts.

"Of course I'll be back. There's lots of holidays and I'm only about an hour away. I'm sure your mum and dad will come visit and you'd come too."

"That's my point," Madeline stated, revealing her secret down to the water as she could not quite manage to look her cousin in the eyes. She kicked at a loose pile of wet sand, one created when the sea attempted to swallow her feet and she responded by moving to start another. "If you're going to be gone, mum and dad would like you home."

Max smirked. "Did they tell you that?"

"Noooo," she let out. "But I know."

"Yeah, Mads, you know lots of things…" Max agreed. "Would you also like me home?"

"I didn't say that," the child sand, swaying her hips as the wind moved around them.

"Are you going to miss me?"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"Well I'm going to miss you."

"Okay, fineeee," Madeline managed, giving in as if it were a difficult thing to do. "I will miss you, Maxwell."

Max laughed once more. "Okay," he breathed out. "Good."

Quickly though, just as it seemed the moment was escaping them, Madeline turned back to him. "But I won't miss Jennie!"

Behind them, the girl was approaching and sensing this, Max was left with no other option but to accept his cousin's words. "Okay Mads. Whatever you say." As she stepped into Max's side, he turned to her, smiling just as she was. "Jen, I was just telling Mads how you want to go to her recital."

Madeline did not hear the older girl's response. She was far too busy glaring at her cousin, admonishing him for bringing up a topic she had already declared finished.

Up on the blanket, with her earbuds in and Stravinsky's_ Evocation of the Ancestors_ coming to a soft end, Sybil laid on her back, her eyelids protecting her eyes from the freshly revealed sun. Tom, who was on his stomach but propped up on his elbows reading John Grisham's latest novel, didn't even bother to look at his best friend when delivering his request.

"No work," he stated quite clearly.

Sybil moved for her earbuds and pulled one out of her ear. "Hmm?"

"No work," he repeated. "I can see you choreographing from here. Stop that."

"I'm not…" She stopped when she saw Tom's glare, asking her not to lie when they both were so attuned to the truth. Sybil sighed. "It's inevitable. I can't help it."

Tom put a bookmark, an old wrinkled sheet of looseleaf that had been folded and unfolded several times, between the pages he was reading to keep his place. Again, he turned to Sybil. "Then listen to something else. We promised each other, alright? And though I've been itching to check my phone—"

"Please don't," Sybil requested earnestly. "Remember how high our bill was a few years ago? Those roaming charges are awful…"

Tom smirked. "Stop changing the subject," he warned. "Like I was saying, I've caught myself reaching for my phone from my bedside table only to remember that it's turned off and resting at the bottom of my suitcase. It's hard but we deserve this, okay?"

Sybil looked back to the sun and nodded. "Yeah, I know."

In hearing her hesitance, Tom sighed. His book was officially deserted as he turned over, now propping himself up so he could stare at the ocean. "I swear it's stress, Sybil. You're always so stressed, love…"

Her task was forgotten too, and quickly, she was sitting in front of her husband, her body seeming small between his knees as her hands held onto each broad leg. Immediately, Tom's hands were on her shoulders, kneading the sensitive flesh where several moles usually hid beneath her curls.

"I wasn't worrying about everything," Sybil let out. Her eyes remained on the horizon calculating how many minutes they had left before the sun found another cloud to disappear behind.

Tom looked too, his eyes cast upon where Madeline, Max and Jennie all stood amongst the gentle currents. The ocean barely met Madeline's waist, causing Jennie and Max to cross their arms over their chests, fighting the cold caused by skin not covered by the water and instead brushed constantly with strong gusts of wind.

"He's so good with her," Sybil let out. "I don't worry when she's with him. And I don't know if that's asking for too much. I don't know if we've made him feel like he has to be that way, but he is. I can't wait to see him married and with kids some day. You know," she shrugged to invite a less serious tone into their conversation, "if that's what he wants."

Tom smirked and leaned forward to kiss Sybil's shoulder. "I don't think we've made him feel like he has to be that way. Or, at least I hope we haven't. I just think Max is such a good kid. And Mary and Matthew loved him so much. And we've tried to do that too in their absence. You know, like your parents and Isobel have. He's been surrounded by a lot of love in his life despite all that he's been through. I think he's just good at showing other people he cares."

Sybil looked back to her husband and smiled. It was almost as if she was surprised to hear such prolific words from him, when in reality, she was more shocked that they never ceased. He had been saying wonderful things to her since they were children and each time felt like the first time, causing her heart to race and her cheeks to flush.

"You know," Tom started again, "I always wondered if Max wanted a brother or sister. Your mum used to push Mary so much and I remember how angry it used to make you and it kind of bothered me too...probably for that reason, honestly. And it really wouldn't have been his decision, I don't think. But I always wonder."

"Well I know Mary didn't want anymore children. And Matthew wanted what she wanted, or so he'd say, because he was afraid he'd seem less manly by admitting he was also perfectly content spoiling one child with love and toys and trips."

This made Tom smile. "I know. And I'd agree with him—"

Again, Sybil turned to him, her mouth slightly agape, but this time glossed over with a bit of hurt. "Tom, you said that—"

"I want what you want, Syb."

She sighed, her jaw still tight as she thought of words to say that would not incite an argument but instead allow the two to continue this conversation in an amenable manner. "Thanks, Matthew," she quipped.

"Well, I do, alright? If you want eight thousand children, let's have eight thousand children! I'll do whatever you want, love. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the idea of it just being Madeline after Max goes to university."

"I think we've worked hard enough to be able to love and spoil two children, Tom."

"Yeah, but it's not about that. I don't worry, with your parents and Isobel and all of our friends, that how ever many children we have they'll all be extremely loved and looked after and yes, spoiled. I'm just saying that if it happens, great. If not, great, because we have a little girl who I don't mind dedicating all of my time to. You know, we had the best of both worlds. We had Max and now we have Mads and when Max goes away, it'll be a bit different. We won't have to split our time as much, y'know?"

"Doesn't that scare you? She already thinks she runs things, Tom. I don't want her to grow up feeling entitled. That is not how I wanted to raise her and she's just had things come very easily to her and I don't want her to remember where she comes from and that the best things come when you work hard—"

"Sybil, she's seven," Tom reminded. "If by the time she's nine or ten, she's still this intense, then we'll address it. But it's very normal for her to be selfish and have an attitude at this age…"

Sybil looked back to the ocean and sighed. "You're right." A moment of silence passed, and Sybil turned back to Tom. "I'm sorry."

He looked to the ground with a shake of his head. "Don't be sorry. You just get so caught up in things being perfect and they're not going to be. Madeline and Max don't ask for perfect so you shouldn't feel bad for not being able to provide that for them. No parent, anywhere, can give their child perfect. It's just not plausible."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"I try to give you perfect too. That means a lot to me and I know since we've had Madeline, things have been different because Max was also growing up very quickly, but I have done my best to be both a mother and a best friend and lover to you."

"Sybil," Tom said with teeth that wished to grind together out of frustration. "It's fine, love. You're the best, okay? And let's not act like things haven't changed for me either. We have a good life. I'm proud of all of the things we've done and the family we have. This is enough for me but if you want to add to it, that would be fine too."

"Okay," Sybil nodded. "I'd apologize but you don't want me to so that's all I can say. Just...okay."

Tom sighed. "Can I ask something?"

Sybil looked to him. "Yeah, sure."

"Your mum...she's never...she's never asked you, right? She doesn't want more grandchildren, right?"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I mean, she always wants more grandchildren. But no, she's not as persistent as she used to be with Mary. I think then she thought I really wasn't going to get married and have children, which I've done now...just not in that order," Sybil said with a bit of a jest. "And Edith and Anthony certainly aren't going to have children. We thought they might adopt but they like the freedom of it being just the two of them and I can absolutely respect that."

"But?"

"I don't think she's ever meant to offend me. Two christmases ago when she'd had a bit too much wine she asked why if we were always having sex, another unplanned pregnancy didn't crop up yet."

Tom looked to the ocean again, wishing to find the statement to be immature, but instead discovering he could not avoid laughing either way.

"I assume she just thinks we've been careful. Which, for awhile, we were. I mean, we thought we were being careful when Madeline was conceived. Stress just caused the birth control not to work but now I've stopped all of that and we took my nuva ring out and it made sense for us to get pregnant but—"

"Syb! Syb!" Tom tried in an attempt to get her back on track. His hands also found her shoulders, caressing the skin with the pads of his thumbs in an attempt to get her to calm down. "Maybe we're just meant to have babies when we're not trying…"

Sybil looked back to him and once again smirked. "I don't think that method will work when we have to give Madeline the talk."

"Well no worries there," Tom said with a sigh as he leaned back. "She'll be abstinent. I mean, ballet schools are like nunneries, right?"

"You're ridiculous," Sybil scoffed. But as she turned back to face the water, her mouth pulled into a smirk.

Her life had worked out like this. When she became pregnant, Tom already had a job, and it made more sense for her to take time off from school in the beginning then at a later date when she was more established. In hindsight they saw this now and acknowledged the blessing, regardless, that Madeline was not only to them, but to the entire family. Even so, many nights found the two agonizing over the proper ways to raise the children entrusted to them, especially when it came to explaining families and sex. Honesty was always the preferred route, and the two were certainly not going to shame their children for the same things they did when they were young. But they saw it now: the hypocrisy that comes with parenthood, because if the two were being honest, and they always were, they wanted both Max and Madeline to grow up a bit, get their educations and discover themselves before settling into things like marriage and children. But heir life was different. They were _lucky_, a word that seemed to be so foreign to their lives sometimes, and to the lives of most others.

Tom sighed. "Uh...can I ask something else?"

Sybil turned back to Tom, this time so she was resting most of her weight on her hip as she leaned into him. "Yeah, of course."

"This morning, when Madeline—"

"I know," she sighed with closed eyes.

Tom let out a small laugh. "I don't think you do…"

Sybil's eyes narrowed as she tried to figure him out. The lack of control at not knowing what her best friend was thinking had her moving so she was up on her knees. When she sat back, her face remained unchanged.

"I don't make love with you to have children, Syb. I'm sorry, but that's not why I do it. With Mads that was this great, unexpected outcome, but I never went into it, whichever time that was, thinking of that. And now, even if this is really what you want, I can't reduce our sex life to that one objective."

"Tom, I didn't—"

"But you do and I don't think you realize that you do. It's rushed and it's on a schedule and you're not enjoying it because you're just worrying if this will be the time it works because if it's not it just must be a complete waste of your time—"

"If you really believe that, Tom, then I am sorry, but I am also really really disappointed because that was never my intention."

"I know it's not your intention, alright? I'm just letting you know how it comes across. Sometimes I just want to fuck you, Syb. I'm sorry! I said it, alright? Sometimes when I'm at work I think 'wow, I can't wait to get home and have sex with my wife' and yes, it consumes a lot of my day because I love you and I love being with you and through all we've ever been through, this is the one thing we're really good at and I love that after all these years it hasn't changed and it's even gotten better but lately…" Tom's voice trailed off as he did his best to regain a more steady pattern of breathing.

"It's been that bad?" Sybil asked honestly. "I just...I didn't know."

"It's never bad, Sybil," Tom admitted rather quickly. "It never could be bad. And I know you aren't aware but it really sucks for me because I know if I'm not enjoying it then you're certainly not enjoying it and that means something to me."

"I'm sorry…"

"I don't want you to be sorry!" His voice, the volume and the delivery, had Sybil a bit stunned. Though he was almost always so composed and gentle with her and the rest of his family, she knew he had a temper. Originally, she was proud of the fact that she was the only one who knew. He wore it like a birthmark, and in their later years, when Madeline was nearly as perceptive as a young-adult Max, she was still proud of the way he could control it. Here, on the beach, with their children playing in the water and everything else so peaceful, it sounded different. He was not angry about something or at someone else; he was angry with her. And, it seemed, with himself, because Tom could never fully see their problems as one sided. If Sybil was at fault, perhaps he had done something to cause it.

"Tom…" Sybil let out. The thought, while incomplete, motivated her toward him, her legs straddling his so she could cup his face and nuzzle his cheek with her nose. This was not his problem and as a result she felt truly sad. "Let's…" Again she was gone. "No baby then? Alright? I just…" It seemed like she was going to cry, or for some reason had another pit in her throat that kept her from speaking. "I love making love to you, Tom. It means something to me too. It always has and I mean that with everything in me. You're my best friend and I just want you to be happy, okay? So we'll take a break and I'll try not to think about it. It won't be easy but like you said, I just want whatever you want." She paused. "I mean, do you want a blowjob?"

Tom chuckled and Sybil, who had a single tear down her cheek expelled a breathy laugh too as her fingertips remained light against the skin of his cheeks. "I've been reserved. It's been boring and we haven't been adventurous and I'm sorry. I am far too young to be leaving you unsatisfied," she brushed off with another laugh.

"It's not that," Tom revealed simply. "Do you want to know what I miss the most, Syb? Over everything else? I miss making you scream, okay? I miss that look on your face when I am going down on you and I can tell you don't want to let go. You can't relax and you hate not being in control but I can push you to this point where nothing matters and you're just in the moment and you can barely believe what's happening. That's what I miss," he stated proudly. "That turns me on more than anything else could. And after ward when you're catching your breath and your body is on fire and you just kiss me with everything in you because you can barely speak...that's what I live for."

"I love you," Sybil whispered. Her fingernails, painted a color that was ironically enough called 'ballet slippers' danced upon his neck and pulled him close. With their foreheads touching she didn't have to lean in to taste him, especially when he met her halfway. Their kisses were slow, but sweet, and completely ignorant to the way in which they sat, not caring about the children, their children, now splashing one another amongst the sea.

"I love you," Tom said, the words falling off his lips like a promise. "And I didn't want to make you feel bad—"

"You didn't," Sybil corrected quickly. "At all. You're right." Then: "You're always right," she admitted strongly. "I've been a mess lately. It's just everything, you know? Work and Madeline's dancing and Max going away to university and then my grandmother passing kind of seemed like the cherry on top. She was always so, so good to us, Tom. She fought our corner when no one else did. She was always on my side, on our side!" she added. "Growing up sucks sometimes. You know, I used to think we were done with all of this. There was your accident and then we were honest about everything but then we had this long distance relationship and then I come home and Mary and Matthew…" Her voice trailed off, not daring to reiterate a truth they were all too aware of. "And we gained custody of Max and then Madeline came along and there was that stuff with Hunter and we got through it and every time I think we're through with the bullshit, something else crops up."

"I think that's life, Syb."

"But is it? Does it have to be?"

"I mean, probably," he shrugged. "It's always been kind of shit for me." Sybil raised an eyebrow and Tom laughed. "It's not going to be easy. We both learned that the hard way. But I meant what I said: I'm proud of who we are and what we have and our family and what we've done with our careers. We're lucky, Syb."

Her mouth spread into a wide, toothy smile. "We are...you're right."

"That's the trend of the day, apparently…" Tom stated rather cheekily.

Again, Sybil raised an eyebrow in question. "Don't get cocky. You know I hate that…"

It was his turn to act confused. "Oh, you do?" he teased.

"Sometimes…" Sybil whispered.

Tom had already leaned in, hushing her lips as he pressed his own down to her collarbone. Before moving any further, he made sure Madeline and Max were still distracted. When he was affirmed that they were, he sat up, bringing Sybil's weight with him, an activity made easier as his hands moved to cup her bottom. All of her was pressed into him, or so it seemed, and both became painfully aware of such a fact when Sybil instinctively felt his hips bucking into her own. It was so subtle, and yet so sensual, her breath hitched in the back of her throat and her lips stilled in an attempt to control other parts of her, specifically the way her nipples had hardened beneath the tight material of her bathing suit top.

"We have to stop, don't we?" Sybil asked. She had gained enough composure to keep her hands strong on Tom's shoulders while her eyes looked down and her chest heaved.

Tom nodded. "We always have to stop."

"Maybe this is just, like, really long, drawn-out foreplay. The sex will be so much better because we had to wait for it…"

"I don't think I've ever had to wait for sex with you, love."

"Oh, really?" Sybil challenged. "Not even when I was at school for all those months without you? Was that not waiting? We managed," she resolved.

Tom shook his head. "Barely. I barely managed."

Sybil dropped her head back to laugh. "You'd be lost without me, Tom Branson."

Tom's face grew serious. "I would, Syb. Unequivocally and irrevocably lost."

"More big words," Sybil teased. "What a gentleman…"

"You love me," Tom teased with a nod of his head.

"I do," she whispered back before giving him a quick kiss. Soon after, she was standing in front of him, moving to their beach bag so she could busy herself when everyone finally came up from the water.

Approaching the blanket, Jennie grabbed for her towel and began to dry the ends of her hair with it. Max turned back to her, the two whispering something neither Tom could or tried to decipher, while Madeline plopped down on her own oversized towel.

"I am pooped!" the little girl let out. Even so, she sat up quickly. "Mummy! Come into the ocean with me!"

Sybil smiled at her daughter. "Do you want a snack first? Maybe some water?"

Madeline thought for a second. "What kind of a snack? A healthy one?"

Tom leaned into Madeline, and when he moved away, the little girl looked at her mother with wide eyes. "You have cucumber sandwiches? And you kept them from me?" she practically screamed. "Mummy!"

Sybil chuckled. "Here, Mads," she said, passing a plastic bag containing a sandwich off to her daughter. Next, she rolled a water bottle her way, and tossed a bag of crisps on the blanket next to where she sat.

"Sybil," Max called out, gaining his aunt's attention. "Jennie and I were going to go up and make lunch if that's alright…"

Sybil looked to Tom and smiled. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry, bud...I thought you had packed something. I could have—"

"It's alright," he assured. "Really. We don't mind."

"Don't fall asleep," Sybil warned. "The forecast says it might rain for the next two days and I'd hate for you to miss a good beach day."

Max smiled back and Jennie did too, following her boyfriend's lead. "We won't. Do you need anything brought back down?"

Sybil turned to Tom once more. "I don't think so, bud. Thanks though. Just make sure you lock the house up on your way back down."

The two teenagers disappeared. It seemed the closer they got to the stairs, the faster their feet moved, until eventually they were hidden by the sand dunes, leaving Sybil, Tom, and Madeline alone on the beach.

"Did you make this mum?" Madeline asked.

Sybil beamed, clearly amused by her daughter. "I did, bug."

"It's really good."

"It's your great-grandmother's recipe."

"Granmama Martha was the best. I miss her…" Madeline revealed, her words lacking the weight deemed necessary due to how young she was and how inexperienced she was at dealing with death. Someday, Sybil and Tom imagined, she'd realize how even those she didn't know played a big role in her life. Everyone constantly spoke of the dead as if they were here and in a way, they were. All of Madeline's family, on good days and bad, were composed of memories and thoughts of those long gone. Even Madeline was a testament to that, though it was unlikely she'd realize the impact others had on her until she was much, much older.

"Me too, bug," Sybil agreed.

All too simply, Madeline was back to eating her sandwich, taking bites of the soft bread in between mouthfuls of salty crisps. Her hand, covered in grease, was wiped atop the beach blanket, and when Tom called the child out on her sloppy behavior, she merely smiled and offered her father a chip.

Tom was not immune to such peace offerings, but his acceptance came with a price. "Mads, what's the issue with Jennie?"

"Hmm?" she asked innocently, still with a mouthful of starches. Her response reminded Tom of Sybil and the way she had used her earbuds earlier to pretend she hadn't heard him comment on her need to always be working.

"Jennie," Sybil tried in support of Tom.

The little girl swallowed and then took a sip of her water. When the bottle was capped and leaning against her thigh, she shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Madeline…" Tom warned.

"She's fine," the little girl tried. "Promise."

"So that's it?" Sybil questioned as she took a seat next to her daughter. "She goes in the ocean with you and she's fine."

"Well, I mean, I was just thinking that Max won't be with her forever so why hate her when there are so many other girlfriends I'm going to have to hate?"

"Mads!" Tom let out in disbelief. "That's a really backward way to look at things, love..."

"I'm not backward! You're backward!" she threw back, causing her mother to stifle a laugh behind her hand just as Tom's eyes widened.

"Alright, young lady!" he let out as he scrambled toward her. Madeline's water bottle was immediately tossed to the side as her legs kicked up in defense of her father's broad frame scooping her up in his arms. "That's enough attitude!"

"Daddy!" Madeline laughed. "Put me—" Her father's humor had her nearly out of breath. "Put me down!" she finally managed.

Behind them, Sybil was back on her feet, a hand pressed to her chest where her engagement ring dangled off the same chain she used to wear it on before the two were wed. It was safe there, and it gave her the freedom of wearing the item to the beach without worry that the sea would take it away. The closer Sybil got to the water, the more slowly she moved. At one point, her feet stilled completely as she warned Tom to "please be careful!" with their daughter.

In the ocean now, Tom fought the cold by focusing on kissing Madeline's face, the girl still giggling in his arms. "I might drop you," he stated casually. "Wouldn't that be awful, Mads?"

"Daddy!" she yelped. "Don't!"

Tom chuckled and arranged the way he was holding her. Her talent in acrobatics made this all the more easy as she hugged her father's upper body, the same arms that were cradling her now keeping her close as a wave crashed upon her back. "My hair is wet now, Daddy!"

Sybil was almost to them by now and at hearing her daughter's statement she just knew Tom's eyes would be upon hers soon enough. "What an atrocity!" Tom let out.

"What is an atrocity?" Madeline asked, her voice dipping in tone to show how unamused she was. The word was also not a particularly easy one to say.

"A...bad thing to happen."

"It is an atrocity," Sybil agreed. "Your dad doesn't know how hard it is to detangle salty hair."

"Well he will!" Madeline said sternly back to her mother. "Because he's going to comb my hair when I get out of the bath later. Right, Dad?"

"I never agreed to that," Tom said simply. "Also, I've put your hair up for ballet before. I know that it's not that hard to manage…"

"When I get to class, my teacher has to fix it," Madeline stated simply to prove him wrong. With a huff, she stared back at her mother. "Mum's just better at some things…"

"Your mother is good at everything," Tom stated confidently as he set his eyes adoringly upon Sybil. "And better than me at most, you're right…" She smiled and fought the urge to blush in her husband's presence. Someday Madeline would know, understand, and appreciate the love between her parents. For now, this was her version of normal, these two people who were so completed in sync that they couldn't help but to adore and respect one another.

"She is," Madeline agreed as she too stared at her mother. "Mum," she let out finally. "You are so pretty!"

Sybil chuckled. "Well thanks Mads. You're pretty too, bug."

"Daddy's pretty too."

Sybil looked to Tom and raised an eyebrow as if to urge him to respond to their daughter. "Thanks, Mads."

Madeline tapped at her father's cheeks. "Hairy," she continued, "but pretty."

Again, Sybil was laughing and Tom's eyes grew in size, reminding her that if he weren't holding their daughter, it'd be her he'd threaten to dunk under the water. With clear intentions, Sybil used her husband's shoulder for support as she leaned in to loudly kiss Madeline's cheek. He was next, and though he pretended to be upset with her, he couldn't deny how tender her lips felt when pressed to the skin near his ear.

"I'm going to go up and grab myself a drink. What do you want, babe?"

"A lemonade," Madeline said clearly.

"Alright," Sybil laughed. "Not the babe I was talking to, but I'll take it. Tom?"

He smirked. "Whatever you're having."

"I was going to put wine in a plastic cup…"

"Some of the Black IPA then?" He stated with feigned contentedness after hearing her statement which practically invited such a response; there was nothing worse, Tom believed, than liquor in plastic. Just a few years ago, Max asked Tom why he forfeited college and he gave this belief as one of the main factors affecting his decision.

Sybil smirked too. "Alright then."

As she walked away, heading to the blanket to grab her cover-up before walking toward the stairs, Sybil heard Madeline ask Tom if she could have whatever he was drinking.

In Sybil's absence, Tom threw his head back to laugh, just as he approached the shore and sat down upon the sand. It was clear that was all the answer Madeline was going to get. Accepting this, or perhaps forgetting her earlier question, she remained amongst the surf, splashing about with limbs that moved just in the way Sybil's used to before years of hard work and training caused her arms and feet to be disciplined, a trait only gained when things like freedom and fun were abandoned.

"Mads…"

"Yes, daddy?"

"What if we had a new addition to the house after Max left?"

"Like a puppy?" she asked simply. Then, she looked to her father. "Or a cat? Aunt Isobel has a cat…"

Tom chuckled. "She does. But no love, not a dog or a cat."

"I don't like snakes," Madeline admitted as she now walked in a straight line on her toes, pretending to step upon a tightrope or balance beam.

"Me neither, bug." Madeline jumped up and switched directions, still playing as if the balance she was keeping was absolutely necessary. "What if mummy had another baby?"

"Mum had a baby?" Madeline asked with wide eyes. "Where is it?"

"Playing in the ocean right in front of me," Tom deadpanned. This was the statement that broke the girls concentration as she, never able to decipher humor, became saddened by the comment.

"I'm not a baby!" she said quickly in defense. Her hands went to her hips. "I'm not!"

"Alright, Mads, calm down, love…"

"Well I'm not!"

"Okay, but you used to be. Max was a baby once too. And your mum. And me. Everyone's a baby at some point."

Madeline thought for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. She was always the youngest in her family and had only seen a baby on one brief occasion when a ballet classmate's mother brought a newborn into the rehearsal space so the teacher could see it. All Madeline remembered was being utterly frustrated at the delay in class commencement and the fact that they were then left with less minutes to practice before her parents arrived to pick her up.

"Fine. When's this baby going to get here?"

"Well we don't know. I don't even know if there will be a baby. I'm just asking what you'd think about that if there were…"

"How long do we have to keep it?"

Years of fatherhood under his belt and Tom was still susceptible to his daughter's humor. In fact, it was this that often got him in trouble with Sybil. When the child did something bad and they were supposed to remain stern, Tom often had to excuse himself so he could expel his laughter elsewhere. Now, with Sybil still up at the beach house, and with Madeline as ignorant to her father's amusement as she was to her own hilarity, he couldn't help but to chuckle.

"You don't give it back, love."

"Well what if we don't like it?"

"We'll like it. Mummy and Daddy will love it and you'll love it too—"

The seven year old shot her father an icy glare. "You don't know that," she corrected.

"You love Max though, right?"

This brightened her spirits. "I do."

"Alright then, it will be like Max but a bit younger. Even younger than you. And no one had to tell you to love Max. You just do. Because he's family."

"Does Max know about this? That you're replacing him?" she added.

"We're not replacing anyone, Madeline. I told you, love, it's just an idea mummy and I have."

"I think you've had better ideas," the child stated frankly.

"Okay, Mads."

Again, she was lost back in her dance, constantly finding the sport to be calming, even if she did not yet know she used it for this purpose. "Can I have time to think about the question, Daddy?"

"Sure, Mads. Whatever you need."

"And while I am thinking about that can you think about cats? Because now that you mention it, I think I could go for one of those…"

Sybil was behind them now. Tom knew this because a bottle was thrust his way, hanging at level with his forehead, dripping with perspiration that landed on his already wet swim trunks as he grabbed for the drink. Before Sybil was even able to sit down, he took a sip. This was when Sybil shook Madeline's lemonade the child's way, only to find she was still lost in dance and would tend to the drink when the routine in her head came to a stable finish. Tom turned back to Sybil, expecting her to inquire about the status of the conversation she had deserted.

"Two questions," Sybil stated simply. Her eyes remained trained on Madeline as the little girl tapped at the water with pointed feet.

"Alright," Tom said. "Everything okay?"

"Oh yeahhh," Sybil sighed. "Totally cool."

"Okay then," Tom laughed. "Go ahead."

"How hard is it to get wine out of carpet?"

Tom squinted. "Uh, a bit hard. Where did you spill it?"

"On that carpet in the hallway upstairs. That plush one with the beige trim."

"How did you manage that?"

"Well that's my next question…"

"Okayyyy," Tom dragged out. He was growing impatient now and he was wondering why, when concerning such a menial topic, Sybil was being slow in her delivery.

"Did you know Max was having sex?"

* * *

x. Elle


	5. Only Love

**A/N****:** Um, hi? This feels odd. Hopefully it won't soon. I apologize for my absence. As most of you know, that is very unlike me but to be honest I haven't felt like myself lately. Slowly though, piece by piece, I'm coming back. So forgive me? And enjoy this? And excuse the mistakes that I'm sure exist within it?

* * *

"Darling I feel you, under my body  
Darling you're with me, forever and always.  
Give me shelter or show me heart.  
And watch me fall apart  
Watch me fall apart."  
_Only Love_ - Ben Howard

* * *

"Well, yeah." Then: "I mean, I assumed," Tom explained. His eyes remained fixed on Sybil, particularly on the way her lips were plump and her eyes unforgiving.

"You assumed?"

Tom leaned back. "Are you upset?"

"I'm not upset, Tom, I'm just shocked. I didn't think Max was—"

"All teenage boys—"

"I know that, Tom. He and Jennie were always, just…" Her voice trailed off as her mind searched for the appropriate word.

"No one knew we were fucking for three years. Besides, I just imagine when two teenagers—"

"Not everyone has sex at that age, Tom. I sometimes think even people in their early twenties aren't ready to make that step. It's really rushed and—"

"Rushed? Are you speaking from personal experience?"

Immediately there was silence. Sybil had a response but no motivation to expel it.

"Yes, Tom!" she finally let out. The hate on her tongue had made the words taste bitter. "We had sex too early! Wayyyy too early!" she roared. "I don't regret it for a second and I think I did and still do make that abundantly clear, but no, fifteen year olds probably shouldn't be having sex!"

Tom sighed and Sybil's eyes, which should have become smaller as he did, only widened. She went to speak, but his open mouth stopped her. "You're right."

"I'm right?"

"You're right," he repeated, this time with a sigh. "It was too young and I think about that a lot. Maybe that's why your dad was upset." Sybil caught Tom's eye and the two scoffed.

As their eyes retreated to the sand, Sybil leaned back too. In front of them, Madeline stretched into a specifically intricate pose, one where her leg curled up behind her, allowing her foot to stretch parallel to the side of her face. Gymnastics, though not as adored by the child, was something that still brought her much joy. To a certain extent, Sybil wished she was given the same opportunity. It was something Madeline had requested and something the child was truly allowed to enjoy without all of the pressures that accompanied her beloved ballet. Just as she was in the ocean before them, a smile graced the child's face every class.

"He asked me about condoms once and I just assumed," Tom finally said. "He asked if Boots had a good selection and I said yes, but that he had to go to the one—"

Sybil remained staring ahead, her eyes now caught on the way the tide revealed rocks near her daughter's feet. "You didn't think this was important to share with me?"

"I mean, I guess not," Tom said, shrugging in the way that men often to when they are just as ignorant to their cluelessness as they are clueless. "It was casual, really. I didn't know it was worth mentioning—"

"We're parenting him, Tom. It didn't need fanfare but a simple 'hey, Max is having sex' would have been nice."

Tom repositioned himself allowing for blood to flow back into the arms all of his weight rested upon. "And then what?"

"Well if he asked you about condoms then clearly he's being safe. I assume he knows what he's doing—"

"Yes, because we had the sex talk with him when he was, like, eleven."

"I think he was still ten then," Sybil revealed with a smirk. Her eyes rolled up and her lips scrunched up toward her nose showing how intensely she was thinking. "Yeah, definitely ten."

"Well I'm proud of him."

Her mirth was lost and Sybil moved to slap at her husband. "You're disgusting!"

"What? They like one another. They're being safe. What's wrong with that?"

Sybil looked to Tom then back to the ocean. Idly a nail-polished foot tapped at the sand, scraping at the coarse crystals in an attempt to secure a cheap pedicure. The sand, Martha once said, was a cure for many things. That and salt water, she noted, the latter of which aided Sybil in the wavy tresses she wore to dinners and walks downtown afterward.

"There's nothing wrong with it," she shrugged. "I just knew him as a boy and he'll always be that way to me. It's insane to me that we'll be sending him off to university soon. Where do the years go?"

Tom looked to Sybil and smiled. It was then that his hand reached out for her, his thumb and forefinger circling the diamond embellishing her ring finger. "We all grow up, Syb…"

In clear exaggeration, Sybil pouted. "I know. But it's sad, you know? It's this very obvious loss of innocence. When you have sex you accept that you're an adult and you make adult decisions."

"Which is why," Tom said with a heavy exhale, "Madeline will be locked in her room until she is eighteen, at which point we will send her to a convent where she can continue her ballet career."

Sybil smirked. "You think she'll do it?" Tom turned to her. He didn't need the words that followed but she gave them to him willingly. "Dance, I mean. Professionally. You'll allow it?"

It was Tom's lips that pulled into a small smile, one he hid behind as he kissed at the back of Sybil's hand as he held it in his own. "She can do whatever she'd like. If she wakes up tomorrow and wants to be a doctor, then she'll be a doctor…" His voice trailed off. "But I don't see that happening. I see her struggling and crying and working her ass off and yes, someday making a career out of this. It's not about allowing anything, Sybil. She's my baby and she always will be but just like with Max I want what she wants, even if it's a bit hard for me at times."

Softly, Sybil placed a soft kiss to Tom's neck. The action had him turning to face her once more, their lips immediately meeting in a more mutual way. In front of them, Madeline had grabbed a bucket and began to walk the shore, patiently waiting for white foam to grace her toes only to slide back toward the ocean revealing rocks smoothed by the rough waters and, on occasion, a shell that had not met the same fate. Her independence, even at seven, was frightening at best.

In the stillness of the moment, both Sybil and Tom had moved closer to one another. Sybil's hands gripped Tom's bicep and her head rested comfortably on his shoulder.

"Do I mention it?"

Tom chuckled. "If you don't want to, I can…"

"But I want him to know that this isn't just a guy thing, you know?"

"Well don't make a big deal of it, alright? Sex isn't the same for guys." Sybil's eyes grew in size and Tom sighed, defeated by her dismissal of a clear and present fact. "It's not. It's this basic instinct we have and a lot of times we don't really put much thought into it. It just is. Don't make him uncomfortable—"

"That's the opposite of my intention—"

"Listen Syb, I'm sure he'll just want to pretend nothing happened. If I had to guess, it'll be Jennie who's mortified."

"Poor girl."

"Maybe you should say something to her…"

"She's not my child. I don't know if—"

"If you don't say something, she'll ignore you for the rest of the trip. She doesn't know us, Sybil. She probably thinks you're just like every other mom, wanting to believe your children don't have sex until marriage, and even then forgiving it because it gives you beautiful grand babies."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "You sound like your mother."

"Because that is my mother," Tom returned rather confidently. "I think about that sometimes...what she'd say if she were alive when we were younger. Like, when everything happened, you know? My accident and us and Max and Madeline…"

"She'd say the same things she always said...that we need to put our faith in God because he has a plan. That we're stupid and often don't think things through. And that she loves us anyway because, someone has to," Sybil stated, perfecting the late Mrs. Branson's intonation with little effort.

In looking to Sybil it was clear that Tom's smile nearly pushed the tears forming behind his eyes down onto his cheeks. His skin, however, remained dry. "She loved you, Syb."

Her eyelashes fluttered in quiet acceptance of this fact. "I know she did."

Above them the clouds moved quickly. What was just a sunny morning somehow turned into an overcast afternoon, and the drinks that Sybil had brought down to the beach were now empty as the family began to pack up their things and head back to the house.

"Madeline!" Sybil called out. Underneath her arm she held the beach blanket, and slung over her opposite shoulder was a large mesh bag containing towels, sunscreen and other beach essentials. "Please be careful on those stairs! You'll get splinters!"

"Will not!" she sassed back. Her hands were on her hips now as she took each step with a pronounced thud caused by the way she jumped up with all her weight.

"Madeline," Tom warned. It was this that had the girl looking to her parents. "Enough with the attitude, miss. Up the stairs normally, please."

She pouted, but when it became clear that Tom was not amused, she moved much in the way she was instructed. "And put your shoes on!" he added. His last instruction was ignored, something both parents knew to be deliberate but that they gave up on when seeing the child reach the stop of the stairs safely. In her wake, now realizing the sun had drained them more than they had hoped, Sybil and Tom followed their daughter down the wooden walkway toward their home.

It was here that Madeline fell, something that seemed all the more shocking to Sybil and Tom only because they had just dispelled heavy exhales in seeing her arrive safely to the top of the cliff. Her toes, not protected by even the flimsy foam material of a cheap sandal, caught on an uneven piece of wood, causing the child to catapult forward, skinning the knee and elbow she landed upon. Immediately there were tears and when Tom ran quickly to scoop the child up, she only sobbed more loudly.

Their belongings were in a heap behind them, with pails and beach towels strewn about as if thrown there deliberately. Sybil stroked her daughter's hair in an attempt to get her to calm down but the tears continued to flow. Madeline's face, red and pained, remained buried in the crook of Tom's neck, the same place where her small hands dug into his sunburnt skin. When it was clear that Madeline was not going to calm down until she was given proper care, Sybil and Tom shared a look, one that silently admitted they would forego using this as an opportunity to tell their daughter to listen next time. It was a thin line they walked, unsure of whether or not to blame the child's senselessness on her age or her condition.

Upon entry into the home, it was noted that things were oddly still and silent. The pitcher of sun tea that Sybil had left out that morning was nearly black now, especially as the sun hid behind the clouds, unable to shine through it.

Tom set Madeline down on the counter and grabbed for a paper towel to dab at the child's cuts. Sybil, who was just now coming in with their bags, chided him for using such a rough fabric, something that Madeline sensed and took advantage of, allowing her to begin crying again.

"Alright, Mads, settle down darling. No need to cry. It's just a few scrapes…"

"Did I break anything?" she sobbed out.

Sybil chuckled and cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "No, love. You didn't break a thing." A kiss was placed to her forehead, meant to mollify the screams that would no doubt follow as Tom, who had just returned from upstairs, placed a soft washcloth wet with peroxide, to the child's knee. Instantly, she was crying again, and the look that covered her face warned her mother against tricking her again.

"Alright Maddie, feet in the sink now. We just need to—" A loud wail had both Sybil and Tom looking to one another for answers. When none appeared, Sybil took the reigns.

"Madeline Scout, the quicker we take care of this, the less pain you'll be in, alright?"

"IT STINGS!" she screamed back.

"Yes, well maybe if you wore your sandals in the way we requested—"

Tom's reflexes were fast, just fast enough to catch Madeline's hand as she reached out to hit her mother. No, the little girl was not violent, but her impulses were also not as controlled as most children her age. Just last month she had thrown a spoon at Max for ignoring her at the dinner table.

"Madeline!" Tom bellowed. "Enough!"

Again the youngest Branson was crying, causing Sybil who was more sad than anything else, to continue tending to the child's wounds. Her knee was practically clean now and as Sybil let the skin air dry, she began to dab at the bleeding skin of Madeline's elbow.

Tom kissed Sybil's cheek and took advantage of the proximity to her ear to whisper: "Makes you think twice about having more children, eh?" She didn't have time to respond. Already her mind was reeling from other more apparent thing to even process what it was her husband had just said. Even so, she felt another strong sense of hurt dig into her core.

The stress of the moment and the way in which Madeline was still crying had Tom none the wiser. In fact, he was already walking away, moving to the stairs again to grab for bandages. As he did, he practically collided into Max. The action, amongst other things, had the boy looking dazed, his mouth dropped open and his eyes enlarged.

"Hey, I would avoid it in there if I were you."

"Oh, uh…" The boy could clearly manage little else. "Just wanted a water. Is—"

Tom was nearly to the top of the stairs and Max sighed, his shoulders drooping as he retired his hope of rationalizing with his uncle. Surely Sybil had told Tom, and he knew both of them to be liberal when it came to things like love and sex, but he still wished, just like every other child, to know what it was his parents were thinking of him. All, of course, without having to ask.

Arriving into the kitchen, Max did his best to remain quiet. Over near the sink, Sybil and Madeline seemed to be in the middle of some sort of silent spat. His cousin squirmed away from his aunt, making it especially difficult for Sybil to apply antibiotic ointment to each scrape.

After grabbing for a water bottle, he placed the item on the wooden island and stepped closer into them. "Aunt Sybil, is there—"

"Oh, Max, hi," Sybil let out. "Can you do me a favor and grab me the tweezers from my bathroom upstairs? They're—"

"Got 'em!" Tom said confidently as he reappeared. In his hands he carried an entire box of bandages, gauze, tweezers, and Beezly. The plush toy was shown to Madeline and, if only for a moment, the little girl forgot her pain.

Seeing her husband reappear, Sybil forced a smile. Quickly though, her attention was brought back to Madeline and the way in which all of her cuts and scrapes were almost covered. She didn't know what it was, but in the back of Sybil's mind she felt anger, and even a bit of jealousy, for the way in which Tom was always allowed to be the more benign parent. Even so, when he was stern with their daughter, she listened more. At least that was what Sybil told herself she was upset about, and that belief somehow made it true.

"You know, Mads," Tom began, "your mum is the best person to have around when you're sick or hurting. Every time she's taken care of me, I've recovered."

Madeline scrunched her nose upward, displaying to her father just how confused she was. "Maybe you should thank mummy for helping you out," Tom finally stated blatantly.

The child sighed. "Thanks mummy."

Sybil sighed too, her own expulsion of air coming from stress and not confusion. "No problem, darling."

What was meant to be a sweet moment somehow turned to something else altogether. Madeline jumped off the counter, not even bothering to pretend the action pained her. Though the cuts on her elbows were more prominent, her knees were badly scraped, an action that seemed to have completely escaped the child as she grabbed her father's hand and dragged him off toward the back door. As Sybil listened for the sound of the rusted spring bringing the wooden door back into its jamb, she dropped her head down behind an extended hand, covering the way in which she was thinking so intently while placing pressure to halt the throbbing behind her eyes.

"Sybil?"

The voice startled her and immediately she was looking up, searching for its source. Of course it was Max, but he seemed younger as he delivered her name. This was not the confident young man she had raised but instead a scared little boy ready to beg for forgiveness.

"Are you okay?" he continued.

Sybil swallowed hard and began to nod just as enthusiastically. "Yeah, fine," she settled.

"Al...alright," he let out. In his hands he still carried a water bottle. It was full, maybe even unopened, a sign that perhaps that was not what he had originally come down to the kitchen for. Slowly, Max stepped in to his aunt. To counter this, Sybil moved too, leaving both of them standing opposite one another on either side of the island.

"You know—"

"I think—"

The way in which they both spoke at the same time cast the room in instant silence.

Sybil chuckled. "Go ahead."

"No, I…" Max's voice trailed off. He wanted her to speak. Even if her words were harsh, he needed them. But perhaps that was because he had none of his own.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you earlier."

Max gulped. "You didn't," he stuttered. "It was...we were…"

"Having sex?" Sybil said with a small smirk. "Yeah, I figured. Just lock the door next time, alright?"

"That's...that's it?"

Sybil sighed. "What do you want me to say, Max? You're eighteen, bud. It's normal for eighteen year olds to have sex. You and Jennie have been together for awhile now and I don't know why I didn't assume this was happening sooner…"

"It's a new thing."

Sybil arched an eyebrow in inquiry. "New?" she scoffed. "I'd hardly say a family vacation is the time to perfect that…"

"It just kind of happened…"

Sybil thought to her own early days of lovemaking, the ones that made her nearly want to die as her and Tom did their best to make one another comfortable while they figured everything out. It all seemed like light years away, those versions of themselves so far lost, swallowed whole by their current adult lives.

"Yes, well, it's like that sometimes. I just would—"

"I'm sorry," Max sputtered. "We're sorry. It's disrespectful and—"

"It's not really disrespectful," Sybil corrected. "Just stupid. I mean, Tom and I never had sex here. It was just a rule." She paused, then rolled her eyes, causing her next admission to fall easily from her lips. "One I suppose we should have shared with you before now…"

The comment had Max letting out a small chuckle of his own. "I didn't know you two—"

"There's a lot you don't know about us, Max. You were very, very young, and now that you're not, we have Madeline and you're going off to university. I figured if you were curious, you'd ask. But why would you be curious? So that's why I try to tell you about your mum and dad as much as I can. Because I know you won't ask, but really those are the stories you deserve to hear."

"I was always curious, you know. Mum and Dad used to talk about you and Tom all the time…"

Sybil smiled. "I know they did. Your parents were very supportive...maybe even without knowing they were. I miss your parents for a lot of reasons, Max, but I miss the friendship. I can't imagine what it'd be like if they were still here. Again, Tom and I were young too. But now we're adults just like they were and it'd be cool to get to do all of that over again."

Sybil hadn't even noticed the way in which she was failing to keep eye contact with her nephew; her eyes were fixated on the grain in the light wood of the butcher block countertop. Acknowledging this, she looked up and once again forced a small smile. The things she revealed seemed to pour out all without her permission. Suddenly she was sad to have had to reveal them.

"Anyway. You're an adult now too. So whatever you need to talk to us about, you can."

Max rolled his eyes. "I know."

Sybil sighed. She too was ready to leave the conversation. "You're being safe? And respectful?"

Max looked away. His cheeks were crimson and his breathing stunted. "Yes," he hissed.

"Alright. Then the rest of it is not my business. But like I said, if your uncle and I can do anything, we will. We love you and we just want you to be happy. We know that going away to university is—"

"Aunt Sybil?" Sybil stopped speaking and looked to the boy, altogether lost. He continued. "I know."

Her lips rolled inward and she nodded. Slowly, Max disappeared, allowing her to sink back into the ledge of the countertop in front of the sink. In a fist, her hand traveled upward, allowing her thumb to tap at her bottom lip. Soon she was biting on her forefinger, oblivious to the way in which her eyes welled up with hot, wet tears. Outside, Tom and Madeline rocked back and forth on the hammock, laughing as they pointed out shapes in the evermoving cloud formations above. Hadn't those same skies just threatened rain?

* * *

x. Elle


End file.
